


Endgame

by alexis (of_too_minds)



Series: Escape and Evade [2]
Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Angst, Ethics, F/M, Miscommunication, Off-screen assassination, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 59,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1218871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/of_too_minds/pseuds/alexis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cult wants the transgenics slaughtered. The US military wants them dead or in a cage. Can they outmaneuver their enemies before it’s too late? </p><p>Sequel to "Escape and Evade". Takes place approximately 6 months later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Me Against The World" by Simple Plan.

_We’re not gonna be_  
 _Just a part of their game_  
 _We’re not gonna be_  
 _Just the victims_

_We’re not gonna let them control us_  
 _We won’t let them shove_  
 _All their thoughts in our heads_  
 _And we’ll never be like them_

_They’ll never bring us down_  
 _We’ll never fall in line_  
 _I’ll make it on my own_  
 _Me against the world_

Flakes of snow swirled in the air, stinging Max’s cheeks and the tip of her nose as she hurried across the snowy quad. The dry snow crunched beneath her boots. It sparkled in the sunlight, so bright it made her squint. It was January in Montana and bitterly cold out. She hunched into her warm winter jacket, her breath hanging in clouds in the frosty air. Still, she stopped for a minute beneath the flagpole and looked around her at the home they’d built for themselves. A proud smile tugged at her lips. 

Large buildings lined the quad on three sides, forming an open rectangle: several classrooms, a library, a dining hall, a gym, even an indoor pool. A boxy warehouse doubled as a general store; it ran off a credit system designed by Alec. There was a bar at one end of the horseshoe of buildings, next to a communal meeting hall with a rec room and an arcade for the younger Xs. The hospital anchored the other end of the horseshoe, with a high tech genetics lab, a maternity ward, and an isolation chamber for X5 females in Heat. In a fit of whimsy, Galen, the head medic, had put the isolation chamber next to the nursery. A subtle encouragement to breed, perhaps?

The dormitories sat at the rear of the complex. There was a hidden backdoor tunnel into the caverns in the basement of each dorm. Behind the dorms were the private cabins, including hers and Alec’s. Further back under the trees were the shooting ranges and two complex obstacle courses. 

Hiking trails meandered through the woods into rolling hills and rugged mountain slopes. Max ran those trails for hours on the nights when she couldn’t sleep, when it felt like there was more energy inside her than her skin could hold. Some nights Alec chased her down those trails. Sometimes she let him catch her. Sometimes she caught him.

The wind kicked up, whipping her long hair around her face. Max squeezed her eyes shut against its chill bite. The flag above her head snapped and cracked in the breeze.

She tilted her head back to peer up the long line of the pole to the Freak Nation flag. Their flag; the one Joshua painted in those last, desperate days in Terminal City. He’d saved it when White forced them to displace, saved it and brought it here. And here they’d raised it for the very first time, staking their claim to this land, their home. 

A place they called Sanctuary.

 

* * *

 

A black sedan sat idling at the end of a deserted pier in the Seattle dockyards. The driver of the car was a severe-looking woman with a pinched nose and dark brown hair cut very close to the scalp. Her eyes were sharp and hard, filled with a pitiless intellect. There was no compassion, no mercy in that cold gaze.

A second black car, of a much less expensive make and model than the first, pulled up and discharged a young man dressed in a nondescript business suit and white shirt. A blue-grey wool trench coat flapped around his legs as he walked. His light blond hair was short and neatly trimmed. His face was bland, neither plain nor handsome, but there was a hardness to his clear blue eyes that spoiled the illusion. This was no pimply-faced kid fresh from college, for all that he looked the part. Life had hardened him already; worn away the soft edges until there was nothing left inside but his faith.

The woman rolled down her window, forcing him to hunch in order to see inside the car. He kept his eyes respectfully downcast. No one stared a cult high priestess in the eyes, particularly this high priestess.

“Fenos’tol,” he greeted with a deferential bow of his head.

“Fenos’tol,” she replied regally. “Report.”

“I was officially transferred to the NSA anti-transgenic task force this morning. The top brass are hoping that adding new blood to the team will kick start the investigation.”

“Excellent. Your assignment?”

“Locate the freaks’ base of operations.” He laughed; a harsh, ugly sound that held nothing of amusement in it. “Agent Gottlieb gave me full security clearance. I have access to all their resources, anything I need to track the freaks down. I’ll know everything the NSA knows.”

She smiled at that. It was not a pleasant smile. “I expect a full report every 48 hours.”

“Of course.” He nodded, but didn’t back away from the car. 

“You have permission to speak,” she commanded with an airy wave of her hand. The late afternoon sun caught a glint of gold on that hand -– an ornate ring in the shape of a serpent with a blood stone in its jaws. The serpent’s eyes sparkled in the sunlight as if it were alive.

“How much Intel do I pass on to Gottlieb?”

“All of it.”

“All of it?” He frowned. “Is that wise?”

The priestess stared at him coolly. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her disapproval. “My apologies, Holy One. I meant no disrespect.”

“There is no need for us to dirty our hands. The freaks are the military’s mistake. Let them handle it.”

“Forgive me, Holy One, but I don’t understand the Council’s decision. The freaks were soldiers once. They were bred to protect the human cattle at all costs. What is to prevent them from joining forces with the military against us?” 

“The animals will never go back on the leash,” she replied confidently. “They’ve broken their conditioning. They can no longer be controlled by their handlers. Therefore the military cannot trust them. They have no choice now but to clean house.” A dangerous smile curled her lips. “With any luck, the battle will wipe them both out.”

He smiled and dipped his head in silent submission. “I bow to the wisdom.”

 


	2. Calm before the storm

Max woke to the smell of snow. A storm had blown in from Canada late last night and dumped several centimetres of fresh powder. Max grinned in sly anticipation; ‘snowball fight’ took on a whole new meaning when transgenics were involved.

She yawned and stretched and rolled onto her side to look at her sleeping mate. Alec lay on his side facing her, one arm stretched towards her side of the bed, the back of his hand resting on her pillow and a lock of her dark hair curled loosely between his fingers. 

With a tender smile on her lips, she propped her head up on one elbow and traced the line of cheek and jaw with her eyes. The early morning light bled around the edge of the curtains, illuminating the room in a golden glow. His skin gleamed -– still the colour of a summer tan in the depths of winter. Long, thick lashes lay like shadows over finely sculpted cheekbones. The tip of a pale pink tongue poked out from behind half-parted lips and strong, white teeth. His hair was mussed and tousled; her fingers itched to comb through the tangles and smooth it out.

Her heart gave a little hitch in her chest. He was so beautiful, and he was _hers_. Sometimes she had to stop and pinch herself just to prove it wasn’t just a dream. Not that she’d ever admit that. It was too embarrassing.

Alec twitched and jerked his head, mumbling incoherently at something in his dream. She watched his eyes flicker behind closed lids, and wondered what he dreamed about.

For the longest time, Max was content to just lie there and watch the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Asleep, Alec looked almost angelic. It relaxed him, smoothed out the lines of stress and tension and made him look younger, softer. Innocent in a way she knew he never had been. Nothing at all like the hardened killer he could be.

She would give anything to chase the shadows from his eyes permanently.

Max suppressed a sigh. 494 was as much a part of Alec as 452 was a part of her. A part she couldn’t deny no matter how much she might wish to. She’d come to terms with that a long time ago. But having that little epiphany hadn’t changed her mind about the rest of it. She clung stubbornly to the belief that they were more than just a designation. More than just soldiers. As far as she was concerned, they could leave it all behind if they only chose to -– bury Manticore’s harsh lessons in the past where it belonged; where it couldn’t touch them anymore.

Who they were didn’t have to determine who they are.

True, they weren’t human, they would never be human, but they weren’t what Manticore made them to be either. They were something else; something in between; something… special. 

And they had a chance at a real life now. The cult was all but obliterated; transgenics had been cleared of all charges in the terrorist attack on Seattle last fall –- thanks to the tireless efforts of Detective Clemente -- and they’d managed to drop completely off the government’s radar. They could finally make a life of their own choosing. One where they weren’t the enemy at the gate, or the first –- or last -– line of defence. A life where being transgenic didn’t automatically mean being a trained killer.

Max sighed. And maybe she really was that naive. Mole certainly thought so.

She reached for Alec and touched him with a gentle hand, brushing a stay lock of hair off his forehead. He stirred and woke under her gentle touch. Hazel eyes blinked sleepily at her for a second or two and then he broke into a slow smile and snagged an arm around her waist and pulled her into him for a cuddle. Burying his face in her hair, he nuzzled his nose into the hollow behind her ear and breathed in her clean scent.

Max let out a happy sigh. Tension she didn’t know she had seeped out of her muscles. She wriggled into a more comfortable position, which made her rump accidentally brush up against Alec’s morning erection. He groaned into her hair. With an evil smirk, she did it again.

“Max,” he half-growled in warning, even as he ground his hips against her backside.

She turned her head to look at him. Mischievous brown eyes met stormy green ones. Lust flared between them like an electrical spark. Max licked lips suddenly gone dry.

“Don’t tease,” Alec growled. His eyes were locked on the movement of that small pink tongue along that luscious mouth. Still half asleep, all he could think about was how hard he was and how much he wanted to sink into her and never come out again. Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus on her face and her voice and not how good it would feel to bury his flesh inside her welcoming warmth.

Max flashed on an image of him pounding her into the mattress so hard the bed threatened to collapse. It made things low down in her belly clench and tighten.

“I’m not,” she said huskily.

Nothing more was said. There was no need.

Alec’s mouth crashed down on hers. He kissed her hungrily, devoured her with his mouth, his tongue sweeping across her lips and demanding entrance. Moaning softly, she opened to him, her mouth parting under the onslaught. He dived inside her, greedily mapping her terrain with tongue and teeth and lips. He nipped at her full lower lip with blunt teeth before sucking it into his mouth to soothe the sting.

She loved him like this. Rough. Wild. Passionate. Her fingers plunged into his hair, her nails scrapping his scalp as she ground their mouths together. She fed from his mouth and he from hers, an ouroboros of passion and desire and raging lust. 

Her blood roared in her ears; she couldn’t think over the pounding of her pulse. She didn’t care either, as long as he never stopped kissing her. The primitive part of her brain was firmly in control, all higher cognitive functions lost under a sea of physical sensation. He rolled them over, trapping her beneath his weight. She arched into him, into the feel of his weight pinning her to the bed. She wanted this, wanted him. Now. 

And then the tempo changed. Alec slowed the kiss, turned it sweet and soft. Teasing rather than ravaging. His hands roamed her body, tracing the curve of her ribs, the delicate line of her collarbone and the dip at the base of her spine. His fingers grazed her skin, gentle touches too light to satisfy, and everywhere but where she needed him.

She loved it even as she squirmed and wriggled and grabbed his hands and pushed them down her body, trying to get him to touch her where she ached for it. He just laughed and twisted his hands free. Lips brushed her skin, gentle butterfly kisses to her eyes, the corner of her mouth and the hollow above her collarbone, while fingers ghosted along her body, her ribs like piano keys under his dancing fingers. It left her breathless and panting and desperate for more.

“Shhh baby, relax,” he crooned. “It’ll be so good. I promise.”

Max sighed and let him lead. For now.

Alec splayed his hands over her ribs, fingers resting just beneath her breasts. Slowly, so slowly, he slid his hands up, cupping the spill of her breasts in the palm of his hands, his fingers circling in ever-decreasing spirals around her nipples. The skin of her areolas crinkled beneath his deft touch. He kneaded her breasts, tweaking and tugging the sensitive buds. Twinges raced from her nipples to her core with each tug. It wrung a moan from her; a low, breathless sound of pleasure.

At one time it would have bothered her to sound so needy, so wanton. To be that vulnerable, that open. Sex was something she did when Heat drove her to it, not something she sought out. The intimacy of it frightened her. In the long, lonely years after the escape, after puberty, she’d never truly given herself to anyone; never let anyone all the way in after she lost her family. She’d always held herself back, controlled her responses, maintained her barriers. Darren had said it best –- she was the ‘human fog bank’. Men had had her body, but never her.

That was before Alec forced his way into her life, breached her defences and smashed her walls to rubble. There was nothing she held back from him. He could make her scream, make her beg, bring her to the edge of orgasm and keep her there until she was sobbing and pleading for him to take her, fill her. She never begged. Ever. Not for anyone but him. And she didn’t mind in the least.

Of course, she could do the same to him. And did. Often.

Sensing he’d lost her attention, Alec tweaked her nipple hard, pulling a gasp from her lips. Her eyes flew open. His were dark with desire. She lost herself in that drowning gaze. He ran possessive hands down the length of her body, his thumbs drawing circles on the tender skin of her inner thighs. She willingly parted her legs for him, wrapped them around his waist as he slid into position. The tip of his cock nudged the outer folds of her sex. Their eyes locked. She nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

He flexed his hips and drove himself into her to the hilt in one sharp thrust. Her back bowed with the force of that penetration. She could feel him inside her; hot, hard, and pulsing with life. His thick cock stretched her walls to the point of pain. She keened with the pleasure of it. He froze, suspended above her in a push up position, his weight braced on his hands to either side of her head. He looked down the long line of their bodies to where they were joined, and the look on his face was of a man struggling for control.

Max clenched and released her inner muscles, her slick wet walls rippling around his hard flesh. It pulled a growl from his throat, as she knew it would. She smirked in satisfaction, and did it again. He threw back his head, the tendons in his neck corded, his eyes squeezed shut, and then he began to move.

He slammed into her, driving her into the mattress with enough force to bruise her, and damage a fully-human woman. She rose to meet every thrust, her feet flat against the bed for leverage. Her small hands roamed over the muscles of his chest and back, marking him with her nails.

Alec groaned. He loved that he could let himself go fully during sex with Max. He’d always had to hold himself back with human girls, for fear of hurting them. But Max was every bit as strong and as tough as he was. She could take everything he had and gave it back to him in equal measure.

They were a perfect match.

Without warning he flipped them both over so that she was riding him. It changed the angle of penetration, made it sharper, forced him deeper. Her knees slipped to either side of his body. She sat up, arching her back, her hands braced on his chest for balance. She rose up until just the tip of him was still nestled inside her. He thrust his hips upwards but she rode his body, denying him, them, deeper contact. He growled, his hands digging painfully into the soft flesh of her hips.

She laughed huskily. “Want something, baby?” she teased, still holding her core beyond his reach.

“You,” he growled. He flipped them again, but she dug her heel into the mattress and rolled them both so that she was on top once more. His eyes widened in surprise, then crashed shut when she slammed her lower body down, taking him inside her as deep as he could go.

She began to move, up and down in a slow, steady pace that rapidly became more ragged as the pleasure built and spiralled out of control. Her juices running down his shaft, making the dark golden curls between his legs glisten wetly. She could feel him pulse and twitch inside her. They were so close. She rode him hard and fast, chasing their bliss, her little heels digging into his sides like spurs.

One of his hands clutched her hipbone guiding her movements; the other snaked around to their joining. He knew just where to touch her to make to writhe, to make her come. She was helpless to his touch, and he knew it. His smile was one of pure masculine satisfaction.

He waited for just the right moment and then gave her clit a hard twist. She screamed in mindless pleasure, pushed headlong into orgasm. Ribbons of coloured light streaked across her vision. Her inner walls clenched him tightly. He convulsed, gasping her name as his own orgasm crashed over him. She felt him spurt deep inside her; great scalding jets that bathed her walls. She collapsed against his chest, boneless and panting for air as they rode out the aftershocks.  

 

* * *

   

Sex, good sex, is messy.

Max grimaced in distaste as she peeled sticky sheets off sweat-slicked skin. She eased out of Alec’s arms, moving as stealthily as she knew how. She had plans for this morning; plans that she wasn’t willing to share with him. 

Not when there was a very real possibility that the mission would be an unmitigated disaster.

She made a quick detour into the bathroom to wash her face and hands and brush her teeth before padding naked down the hall to the kitchen where she stood for a good five minutes in silent contemplation of the contents of their cupboards. Eventually she pulled out a box of pancake mix.

‘ _It can’t be that difficult,_ ’ she reasoned. ‘ _Even Sketchy knows how._ ’

Shrugging, she set the box on the counter and rummaged through every cupboard in the kitchen looking for the fry pans before she remembered they were in the drawer under the stove. It took her another five minutes to figure out that the bowl they usually made popcorn in could also be used to mix the batter. That mixing was, in fact, its original purpose.

Eventually the box of pancake mix, the bowl, a glass measuring cup, a wooden spoon, and the fry pan were assembled on the countertop. She eyed the collection uncertainly. Her New Years resolution was to do something nice for Alec at least once a week to show him how much he meant to her. Breakfast in bed had seemed like a good place to start. So why did she feel like she was back in the Tank at Manticore, struggling to meet Deck’s impossible standards?

‘ _Suck it up, soldier,_ ’ she told herself firmly. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she began. 

Half an hour later, she finally poured the batter into the fry pan. Okay, so there were more than a few lumps, and the pancakes could only be considered round if she tilted her head to one side and squinted, but it was the thought that counted. Right?

Frowning, Max poked at the pancakes with a fork. A slight line formed between her brows as she read over the instructions again. It said to flip the pancakes when the bubbles popped. Only some of the bubbles had popped, and some hadn’t. So, was it too soon or not soon enough? Was she supposed to wait for a critical mass of burst bubbles before it was safe to flip? Max sighed. Give her an engine to strip down and rebuild overnight and she was fine. Ask her to cook and she was out of her depth.

She really sucked at being a girl.

Lost in thought, she was caught off-guard when two strong arms wrapped around her from behind. She jumped. The fork went spinning out of her hand and landed in the mixing bowl, spraying batter all over the counter.

Alec laughed. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and peered down at the mess in the fry pan. “Uh, Maxie… your pancakes are burning. You better flip them.” He tilted his head to look at her. “Unless you like them like that.”

Max whirled around, pulling out of the circle of his arms and backing up far enough to meet his eyes with an angry glare. “Why are you up? You’re supposed to be sleeping! In bed!” 

“I missed you?” Alec asked, puzzled by Max’s look of ire. Mentally he ran over everything he’d done this morning since waking up, and last night before going to bed, trying to uncover the reason why Max seemed so put out with him.

“Seriously Alec, why are you here?” Max asked grumpily. Her hands had crept to her hips, never a good sign.

“You’re naked, and I’m naked, and we both need a shower, so I thought we could conserve water,” he leered at her.

Max threw her hands up. ‘ _Honestly, men are so dumb some times,_ ’ she snorted. How often did she cook? Willingly? So how could he not get that she was trying to do something nice for him? 

“Hello, can you not see the pancakes?” she huffed angrily. “I’m trying to make you breakfast in bed!” 

“So you can make me breakfast in the kitchen instead,” Alec offered reasonably.

“No! Damn it Alec, I’m trying to do something nice for you and I’m not going to let you ruin it for me!”

One eyebrow quirked upwards in amusement. “So I probably shouldn’t point out the complete lack of logic in that sentence, right?”

“Argh! Just. Go. Back. To. Bed,” Max ordered, punctuating each word with a poke to the chest.

“Ooo-kay,” Alec said slowly. He backed away from the irate woman, raised hands held palm-side out to show he was unarmed.

“And don’t come out of the bedroom unless I say you can!”

Deciding discretion really was the better part of valour, Alec tossed her a fake salute, turned smartly on his heel, and marched back to bed.

Max stared down at the fry pan. The bubbles had come and gone and left behind a burnt mess that vaguely resembled a discus. This batch was clearly ruined. Sighing, she upended the pan over the garbage can and prepared to try again. 

 

* * *

  

Max carefully maneuvered through the half-open bedroom door, a wooden tray balanced in one hand. Alec was just a blanket covered mound in the middle of the bed. Not even his head was visible. When Max was two feet from the bed, he let out the most obnoxious, fake snore he could manage.

Max giggled. It was too ridiculous. She set the tray on the nightstand and crawled onto the bed. “Alec, it’s time to wake up,” she sing-songed and smacked his blanket-covered ass. 

“Don’ wanna,” Alec mumbled.

“But I’ve got a surprise for you. It’s yummy,” she cajoled. “C’mon, lazybones, you can’t sleep all day.”

Alec popped his head out of the cocoon of blankets. He looked from the tray to Max, eyes and mouth wide in comical surprise. He beamed up at her. “You made me breakfast in bed? Maxie, that’s so sweet.”

Max collapsed onto the bed, her shoulders shaking as the laughter bubbled out of her. 

Alec sat up against headboard and transferred the tray onto his lap. On the tray was a two inch stack of pancakes slathered in butter and syrup, and a cup of steaming hot coffee. A sprig of evergreen in a water glass took the place of the traditional flower and bud vase. He inhaled deeply. “Smells good.” 

“So did the first batch,” Max mumbled. She balled her hands in her lap, her fingers crossed.

Alec grinned at her and took a bite. He paled. Foregoing chewing, he moved directly to swallowing and followed it up with a huge mouthful of coffee, counting on the bitter liquid to blunt his taste buds.

“Is it okay?” Max asked anxiously.

The pancakes were lumpy and burnt, and tasted like charred cardboard even with half a bottle of syrup poured on top, but the look of pride on Max’s face was worth every bite. Alec smiled. “It’s perfect.”

Max scooted forward and gave him a quick kiss. He tasted sweet. She licked a stray drop of syrup from the corner of his mouth. “I love you.”

Alec cupped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close for another kiss. “I love you, too.” 

 

* * *

 

Alec took her hand as they walked to the morning meeting. It was a familiar action, as natural and unconscious as breathing. Max felt positively giddy. This beautiful man at the end of her arm was hers. Life was perfect. 

She should have known things were going to go pear-shaped. She should have been expecting it.

She wasn’t.

Dix pounced on Alec as soon as they cleared the door to Command HQ. She watched as the pale nomalie pulled her mate into a secluded corner and began to whisper intently. Dix looked eager, a little apprehensive perhaps, and almost as if he was asking Alec for permission. Which was odd. She couldn’t imagine why Dix would need Alec’s permission for anything personal, and if it was a tactical request then he had to present it to the entire Council, not just Alec.

Max drifted closer, hoping to eavesdrop. Alec spotted her coming and shushed Dix mid-sentence. Plastering on a bland smile, he gave Dix a jovial thump on the back and wandered over to his seat at the conference table. Dix ducked his head and scurried off in the other direction, but not before Max saw him cast his eyes back at Alec, and saw Alec dip his head in silent acknowledgement.

Max frowned. She had a bad feeling about this. What the hell were they up to?

 


	3. The truth will out

Max scanned through the agenda for the morning meeting, mentally checking off each item on the list. “Okay, I think we’re done.” Her eyes made a quick sweep around the table. “Unless one of you guys has something you wanna add.” 

“Yeah,” Mole said, leaning forward, “I got business. Unfinished business.”

Max didn’t bother to hide her annoyance. She glanced at her watch impatiently and started stacking her papers together. “Mole, for the last time, we are NOT going to jack any more government choppers. We already got four; that’s enough. Now let it go.” 

“It’s not about the birds, princess,” Mole snarled. “Which I still say is a good idea,” he added under his breath.

Max tensed. The look on Mole’s face was not a friendly one. She had a sudden premonition she was not going to like this conversation.

“Now that we’re done gettin’ all comfy-cozy here on Walton’s Mountain,” Mole sneered, “we need to get our heads outta our collective asses and deal with the breeding cult.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Simple. We don’t know what they’re up to. We need to know.”

“They’re not up to anything,” Max argued with an elaborate eye roll. “We gutted them last summer, remember.”

“Don’t kid yourself, princess,” Mole said belligerently. “We didn’t know their numbers before the attack in Seattle and we don’t know them now. We got no Intel worth having. For all we know they’re planning a retaliatory strike against us and here we are, impersonating a sitting duck.”

Max dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand. “If they still had the numbers to be a threat, we’d have heard from them by now.”

It was arrogant and cocksure. The kind of arrogance that came from going up against nothing but humans for so long; disposable baddies-of-the-week easily taken down with a few well-placed punches and an EO hack. The kind of arrogance that led her to stay in Seattle despite Zack’s repeated warnings.

No wonder she got caught.

“You don't leave an enemy at your back,” Mole growled, “Especially when it’s wounded and down for the count. Not unless you’ve got a death wish. Don’cha know an animal is most dangerous when it’s cornered?” 

“Geez, paranoid much?” Max said with another eye roll. “The cult is gone.”

“Just cuz you’re paranoid don’t mean they ain’t after you,” Mole countered. “Who knows, mebbe you’re right. But mebbe you’re not. And if you’re wrong… a whole lotta people could findthemselves dead. People you care about. Are you really willing to take that chance?”

“So, what… we just hunt them down one by one and take them out, on the off chance they MIGHT be planning something nasty?” Max asked, incredulous. “No! No way.”

“So let’s find out,” Mole urged. “Send out a reconnaissance team. Get the lay of the land.”

“It’s a waste of manpower.”

“Standard operating procedure against an entrenched enemy, Max,” Alec interrupted quietly.

Max whipped her head around to stare at him, surprise rendering her speechless. Alec always took her side, even against his good buddy Mole. Except not today, apparently. She shook her head in denial.

Alec met her shocked gaze evenly. His voice was low and soothing, unchallenging. “Better safe than dead. It costs us nothing to be sure.” He was trying to tell her something with his eyes, but Max couldn’t read the message.

“Yeah. You’re so sure they’re clean, what’ve you got to lose?” Mole chimed in.

Max appealed to the rest of the room. Dix looked apologetic, but nodded. Even Joshua seemed to be in agreement. Max wilted. “Fine!” she snarled. “But surveillance only. I mean it, Mole.” She jabbed her finger angrily at him. “We are not going after them unless they’re an immediate threat. We aren’t judge, jury and executioner. If all they’re doing is chanting to the moon and waving snakes around and cursing our names, we leave them to it. No pre-emptive strikes.”

Mole sputtered and almost swallowed his cigar. “You think they’re playing by the same rules? Don’t be so naive. The world doesn’t work that way, no matter what that do-gooder norm, Eyes Only, told you. And pretending it does is gonna get us all killed.”

“Protest duly noted,” Max growled. 

“You aren’t our Tactical Commander. It’s not your call.”

“It’s not yours, either. It’s Alec’s, and he’s got more brains than to draw attention to ourselves by offing random cult loonies.” So focused on Mole, Max missed the guilty look exchanged by Dix and Alec.

Mole didn’t.

He sat back in his chair, feeling smug. He should have known Alec had already seen the threat and taken steps to eliminate it. X5-494 didn’t flinch; not when it counted. Well, except for that one time. Mole shrugged. He trusted Alec. It was why he followed him. He could work around Max if he had to; he’d done it before. 

“Fine,” he said with an affable smile and took a deep puff on his cigar. “You win. Recon only.”

Predictably, Max took exception to Mole’s smile. She glared at him through suspicious eyes. He didn’t so much as twitch a muscle; just sat there puffing calmly on his cigar. Max deflated.

“Well, good. Alright then.” She didn’t trust his sudden one-eighty, but she wasn’t about to argue when she was winning.  She stood and leaned over the table. “Anything else?” she asked. No one said a word. “Then I say this meeting is adjourned.”

On that note, Joshua and Max headed out to start their work day. Mole, Dix, and Alec remained behind.

Mole was head of Security. Dix was in charge of Intel and Communications. Alec was their Tactical Officer and head of Acquisitions. The three of them spent most of their day in HQ. Max was their Public Relations liaison, or would be if they ever opened negotiations with the humans. In the meantime she coordinated between all the other section heads and helped Joshua manage the work crews. The soft-spoken dogman was an expert at organizing and prioritizing their needs, tracking supplies, and handling people. The two of them made a good team -– between his gentle demeanour and her bitchiness, no one argued when they gave out assignments, not even when it came to back-breaking physical labour. Good cop-bad cop at its finest. 

Max stopped just inside the open door. “Coffee and donuts, say 10:30ish?” They all met for coffee in the Mess Hall at least once a day. It was a good way to touch base, with each other and with the rest of Freak Nation. The fact that she got to flaunt Alec was just an added bonus.

“Uh huh,” Alec said distractedly.

Max waited, her face raised for a goodbye kiss. Alec walked around the end of the conference table and bushed a distracted kiss across her lips. Max frowned. She could read the line of tension across his shoulders. He’d been tense a lot, lately. She had thought it was the stress of getting Sanctuary up and running, but now she wondered if there wasn’t more to it. He seemed almost impatient for her to leave. That wasn’t like him.

Dix was hovering in the background, a manila folder clutched tightly in his pale hands, and he kept sending anxious glances her way. Belatedly Max remembered the whispered conversation between him and Alec before the meeting began. The bad feeling she’d had then came back, stronger. She was not liking this one bit. She was just about to demand an explanation when Joshua’s voice rang out from behind her.

“Little fella. Hey, little fella! Max and Alec gettin’ busy later. Joshua and Max workin’ now.”

Alec and Dix both turned to look at her, their expressions blank-faced and empty. It was eerie. Max shivered. What was going on with them? What was Alec hiding from her?

‘ _Later,_ ’ she promised herself as she jogged down the passageway to join Joshua. ‘ _I’ll get some damn answers later, even if I have to beat the crap out of Alec to do it._ ’

 

* * *

   

Mole leaned back in his chair, hands laced behind his scaly head, and eyed Dix and Alec thoughtfully. Dix looked at the floor, the ceiling, the toes of his boots; anywhere but at Mole. Alec returned the stare with a guiltily innocent look.

Mole snorted. The sound held both disbelief and amusement. He jabbed the air with the lit end of his cigar. “I want a piece of whatever ever Job you two are pullin’,” he announced bluntly.

Alec blinked dumbly at Mole. His face was a mask of perfectly believable confusion. “You need to stop watching reruns of The X-Files, my friend. It’s making you paranoid.”

“Uh huh.” Mole’s tone made it clear he wasn’t buying. “Don’t give me that ‘I’m just an innocent bystander’ crap. I ain’t blind, or stupid. You two got something going on the sly and it ain’t a quilting circle. I want in.”

Alec dropped all pretence. “Need to know basis only,” he said evenly.

“I’m head of Security,” Mole reminded him, just as evenly.

“It’s not a security matter. Well, not _internal_ security anyway,” Alec quickly amended. “It’s Covert Ops. More than that, you don’t ‘need to know’.” 

Mole grunted. He was too familiar with military bureaucracy and the chain of command to argue the point but he wouldn’t be Mole if he didn’t push the envelope. He jerked his chin up and stared at Alec through narrowed eyes. “Why keep it on the DL? We’re the Council. You sayin’ you don’t trust us?” he challenged. 

“It’s not a question of trust,” Alec countered. In fact, Mole would make the perfect ally if Alec could only trust him not to give the game away just to spite Max. Alec sighed. Life was so much simpler when they all took their orders from Manticore; no negotiation, no back-talk, no lies. Not that he’d ever willingly go back to those dark days, but sometimes… sometimes the simplicity had its appeal. 

“Maybe you’re my fall guy,” he joked.

“Meaning Max ain’t in on it and she’s gonna be right royally pissed with you when she finds out,” Mole translated. 

Alec winced. “She’s gonna kick my ass.”

Mole laughed then abruptly sobered. He gave Alec a long, hard stare. Satisfied by what he saw in the X5’s eyes, he said quietly, “You’re the first X-series I ever trusted. I’ll keep my trap shut.” Alec nodded. “But if I don’t get to play, don’t expect me to visit you in the Infirmary,” he joked. 

Alec smiled and laughed, grateful that the belligerent transhuman wasn’t giving him grief. “Yeah, yeah. Get gone already,” he growled, but there was a glint of humour in his hazel eyes.

Mole tossed them a rude gesture but obligingly left the room, stomping his great big feet every step of the way.

Alec rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck out, trying to ease the tightness in the muscles. It seemed like he was always tense these days; like he was walking around with his shoulders hunched and waiting for the blow to fall. He was happier than he’d ever been, but every day he wondered if today was the day it would all fall apart. He wasn’t nearly as good at compartmentalizing as he used to be and the strain was getting to him.

He moved behind his desk and flopped, boneless, into his desk chair. He stared out into the room but his gaze was turned inwards. Logically he knew that hunting down the remaining cult members was the right decision. The only decision he could make, under the circumstances. Kill or be killed. But every time Dix brought him a new target it got a little bit harder to make the call.

Alec had no illusions about what Max’s reaction would be if she discovered he’d issued a kill order. It would cost him everything. He would lose the best thing in his life. She’d walk away; she couldn’t do any less. Not and still be his Maxie. Her hero complex was part of what he loved about her. 

But what other choice did he have? The breeding cult was still a threat. Too many of them were ensconced in positions of power. The damage they could inflict… it made him shudder to think about it. The only way to neutralize the threat they posed was to use the tools he had on hand -– assassins and snipers and covert ops. Whatever it took. Which meant there were certain lines he was willing to cross that Max wouldn’t; couldn’t.

THAT was the terrible lesson he’d learned from Biggs’ death. Don’t get complacent. Don’t forget what they were, where they came from…because the world certainly wouldn’t. Too many people still wanted them dead or in a cage to ever forget the lessons Manticore taught them.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a life too; something Max didn’t seem to understand. He wasn’t just Alec; he was X5-494. And nothing, no amount of time or distance, would ever change that. Spending his formative years learning the fine art of assassination certainly wouldn’t have been his first choice, but he refused to be made to feel ashamed of who -– and what -– he was. He couldn’t afford to be. 

Max had spent more years out in the world than she had back at Manticore. True, she’d finally embraced her heritage, the unique abilities that made her more than human, but she still thought like a human most of the time. The rest of them didn’t. Not really. They had tried to learn, to adapt, but then White had outed them and it all went to hell, and they’d fallen back on their training and instincts. And it worked for them.

But Max couldn’t accept that. She wanted them to forget they were soldiers. But you don’t just forget a past like theirs. X5-494 could keep them safe; Alec McDowell couldn’t. It was that simple.

A file folder crossed his line of sight. Alec reared back, startled, and saw Dix watching him with a concerned look on his lumpy, pale face. Offering up a tired smile, he shrugged and said, “Sorry. So what’s the sitch?”

Dix handed the report over with a smile. “The mission was a success. Target acquired; no collateral damage; no witnesses.”

“That’s good news.”

“Wait, it gets better.” Dix’s smile widened, to the point where he started to resemble the Cheshire cat. Alec arched an eyebrow. “I snooped the target’s cell phone records. Get this… most of his calls were routed through anonymous relays. You just don’t bother with that kind of security unless you got something to hide. So I figure, if I get into the system and hack a back track, we’ll end up with--” 

“--a laundry list of possible targets,” Alec finished. 

“Including names and addresses.” Dix beamed.

“This could lead us straight to their headquarters.” Alec’s eyes lit up at the thought.

“I know,” Dix said smugly.

“Get on it. Get it done,” Alec ordered. “I want to move on this before they know we’re coming.”

“You got it, boss!”

Alec bent down and carefully laid the file in the concealed hiding place in his desk along with the others, and turned his attention to the stack of legitimate reports waiting for him.

“Um, Alec?” Dix asked softly. He shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot. “Can I ask you a question? About what Max said earlier, about no pre-emptive strikes against the cult…?”

Alec raised his head to look at Dix. Max’s disapproval weighed on the nomalie’s conscience, he could tell. “Don’t worry about it, Dix,” he said with a reassuring smile. “That’s just Max being Max. She doesn’t like it when bodies are on the ground.”

“Then maybe you should tell her. Before the body count gets any higher.”

“Why? So she can overreact and accuse me of being a cold-blooded killer?” Alec said bitterly. “No thanks.” He tossed his pen on the desk. It bounced and rolled off the edge and out of sight. Alec sighed.

“If you just explained it to her, I’m sure she’d understand…” Dix trailed off at the look of tired resignation on Alec’s face.

“She won’t listen. She doesn’t want to hear it.” Alec flung himself back in his chair. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging on the ends in frustration. He looked up to meet Dix’s sympathetic gaze.

“One of us has to make the hard decisions,” he said evenly. “Max isn’t willing to be… practical... about this. But I am. Because I promised her. The night before we stopped The Coming, I promised her that I’d keep her family safe. Mole is right; as long as the cult is out there, we’re in danger. So I’m gonna do whatever I have to, to keep my promise.”

“But if you just talk to her--” Dix insisted. Alec was his hero. It was inconceivable that he might lose Max over this. He was just doing his Job.

“No!” Alec stood up abruptly. He loomed over the desk and stared Dix down with eyes gone cold and hard. “Max. Never. Finds. Out.”

 

* * *

 

Max jogged down the long, twisting corridors, her boots scraping lightly on the stone. She’d ditched Joshua for the morning, leaving him to run the work crews on his own while she headed back to HQ, determined to confront Alec and wrest some answers out of him. She was almost at the door when she heard his angry snarl echo down the passageway. 

“Max never finds out.”

It stopped her in her tracks. Her boots felt nailed to the floor. Her breathing automatically slowed and turned shallow, making it easier for her extend her hearing. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop -– some old adage about the listener never overhearing anything good -– but she couldn’t not listen in. Not after a comment like that one.

Damn feline DNA. It got her every time.

There was a long minute of silence, and then Alec’s voice again, cold and distant, and a few octaves lower than normal. ‘ _No,_ ’ Max thought, ‘ _not Alec’s voice. 494’s.’_

“Hack the system,” she heard that cold voice order. It made her shiver _._ “Cross-reference the records against White’s; red flag any numbers that come up on both lists. Those are our primaries.”

“Sure thing, boss.” That was Dix. He sounded eager; excited. Max scowled.

“How long will it take you to confirm a target?”

“Not long. A day or two.”

“Okay. Good. Keep the strike team on standby. And keep me posted.”

‘ _Target?_ _Strike team?_ ’ Max mouthed, bewildered. She wracked her brain trying to recall any upcoming missions but drew a blank. What she heard made no sense. And what did White have to do with it? The man was dead. He wasn’t a threat anymore.

‘ _No, but the organization he worked for still is,_ ’ the voice in the back of her head said in an insidious whisper. 

Max shook her head. ‘ _No!_ ’ she denied fiercely. ‘ _Alec wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t go after the cult. Not behind my back._ ’

She heard the scrape of chair legs on stone, followed by footsteps. They were coming out. She didn’t stop to think; she just ducked out of sight behind a pillar and held her breath as they passed by.

It didn’t take her long to find the file hidden in the secret compartment in the bottom drawer of Alec’s desk. She stared at it in horror. Her blood ran cold.

Alec was killing. Coldly. Indiscriminately.

 _Alec_ was _killing_.

Even in the privacy of her own mind, she sounded slightly hysterical. 

Max knelt on the stone floor for an eternity, the pages trembling in her shaking hands, her mind screaming in denial. And then she was up and running for the door.

 

 


	4. It all falls to pieces

_“C’mon, Max! Do you really think I could murder someone in cold blood?”_

_“Yes Alec, I think you could.”_

She was such a gullible little fool. She spoke the truth that day in the Seattle police station. Why hadn’t she listened to herself? Max shook her head, disbelief written across her features along with a dozen other emotions.

Alec had played her. He’d played them all. And she was so desperate to believe that she had let herself be seduced by soft eyes and a boyish smile. Made herself forget that Alec was a true blue solider back in the day. He was pure Manticore, through and through. Their superstar. 

She would never doubt again. The proof was in her hands.

The betrayal bit deep. It was all a lie. All of it was a lie. She couldn’t breathe past the pain.

Clutching the damning file to her chest, Max ran. Fury lent her speed. She burst from the cavern, startling a flock of crows into flight. Their raucous cries filled the bleak winter sky. Max ignored them. She veered off the road, taking the shortcut through the trees. Her legs churned through the snowdrifts, wet jeans flapping around her ankles. She ran; eyes locked in front and pretty face devoid of all expression.

If her vision was blurred by unshed tears, Max blamed it on the icy wind.

 

* * *

 

The mess hall was half full of happily chattering transgenics who dared to slump in their seats, spines curved like commas rather than straight as exclamation marks. Some even bypassed the chairs altogether and sat perched on the tables. The low hum of conversation filled the air, echoing off the vaulted ceiling. They laughed and joked and shouted hellos at one another across the length at width of the room. It was a vastly different scene from what passed for the norm back at Manticore.

Alec deftly slipped through the crowd and snagged a seat with his friends at their usual table. Surprised at seeing Joshua there without Max, he raised one quizzical eyebrow. 

“Little Fella runnin’ errands,” Joshua explained.

“Huh. Oh well, all the more for me then,” Alec smirked. He raised the mug of hot chocolate he had cradled between his hands. It smelled heavenly. Thick and creamy, it was made in the traditional French style with real melted chocolate, warm milk, and a dash of cinnamon. Closing his eyes, he savoured the rich flavour as it rolled over his tongue and down his throat. 

Syl sniffed the air suspiciously. “Hey! That smells like hot chocolate.” Envy filled Syl’s voice. Real chocolate was rare in post-Pulse America, and even rarer back at Manticore. It was a treat they seldom got to indulge in. “How did you get hot chocolate?” she demanded. “Tika said we were out!” 

“Yeah, well, Tika likes me best,” Alec said smugly. He held the mug to his face so he could breathe in the rich aroma.

“Poor girl obviously needs to get out more if that’s true,” Syl snarked. 

“Hey!” Alec protested in mock outrage. “Just what are you insinuating?”

“I wasn’t insinuating anything,” Syl answered with false innocence, batting wide blue eyes at him. “I was trying to say it straight out. Maybe I should be blunter?” Whatever else she might have said was muffled by the oatmeal cookie Alec shoved in her open mouth. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he ordered. His voice was gruff but his hazel eyes were sparkling with mirth. “You don’t wanna set a bad example for the kiddies.” He tipped his head to a nearby table of X6s who were avidly watching the exchange, commanding officers being something of celebrities in their world.

“That’s funny coming from you. Sell any beachfront property in Idaho lately? ” Syl mumbled around a mouthful of cookie crumbs. “Max should've named you Barnum.”

Alec laid a hand on his chest, a wounded look in his eyes. His lower lip quivered ever so slightly. “That hurts, Syl. That really does. I’ll have you know I haven’t run a scam in… oh, at least a week.”

“Three days,” Mole corrected.

“That sounds about right,” Syl said thoughtfully, her head tilted to the side as she made the mental calculations. Krit smothered a laugh.

Alec shot Mole a dirty look then turned his eyes heavenward. “What does it take to get a little respect around here?” he appealed to the ceiling tiles. “I mean, I’m a decent guy. I work hard--”

“--at not working,” Mole interjected in a sotto voice.

Alec ignored the comment. “I’m nice to old people.”

“Do you know any?” Dix offered cheekily.

“I don’t cheat on my taxes,” Alec doggedly continued.

“You don’t pay any,” Syl pointed out helpfully. 

Alec groaned and thumped his head on the table. “I give up. You got me. I’m a bad, bad man.” He raised his head and gave them all a smug smile. “But I’M the one with hot chocolate.” He made a big production of raising the mug and taking a sip, moaning and smacking his lips at the taste.

Joshua watched Alec through big wet eyes, making whining puppy noises deep in his throat.

“Bad doggie,” Alec mock scolded. “No begging for treats at the table. ‘Sides, not even Max could get me to give this up.”

“As if,” Syl snorted in derision.

Alec smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, even I didn’t buy that one.”

“You are so whipped,” Syl teased. “I’d pay good money to see you defy her just once.” 

“She’s turned you soft,” Mole grumbled.

Alec’s mind flashed to the incriminating files hidden in his desk. “You have no idea how hard I can be,” he growled.

That was met with three seconds of shocked silence followed by a round of snickers.

“That sounded a lot less dirty in my head,” Alec chuckled. Suddenly sobering, he caught and held Mole’s gaze. “Max doesn’t make decisions for me. I haven’t forgotten who I am. Most of the time it’s just not worth the fight. Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t actually enjoy getting my ass kicked, verbally or otherwise.”

His eyes slid past Mole to Dix and then to the wall between him and the caves. He stared at it as if he could see through it for several long minutes, lost in thought. Giving himself a shake, he turned his attention back to the table. He forced a smile for the benefit of his friends, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that had his inner cat hissing and spitting at shadows.

 

* * *

  

Max slammed into the mess hall doors at full force, knocking them open with the heel of her hands so hard they rebounded off the wall. All conversation was severed by the resounding crash. Dead silence fell across the room as everyone turned to stare.

Max stood framed in the gap between the doors, stiff-armed and stiff-legged, her body fairly humming with tension. Her gaze swept the room, cataloguing and dismissing everyone until it landed on Alec. He shivered at the look in her eyes. Her face was impassive, cold and indifferent, but her dark eyes burned with a barely contained fury.

‘ _She knows._ ’ His stomach clenched in mixed dread and relief. The charade was over. She knew. Somehow she knew what he’d done.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

“Man, she looks pissed. What did ya do this time?” Mole asked with a wry chuckle.

“Lived down to expectations,” Alec shrugged, faking a nonchalance he didn’t feel. Blowing out a deep breath, he rose to his feet. He pulled his usual mask over his features like a blackout curtain and stiffened his spine, both figuratively and literally. He was a soldier; he would not flinch from the firing squad.

Max strode across the room, her footfalls sounding unnaturally loud in the silence. Every eye in the mess hall tracked her progress towards Alec. A few winced in sympathy for Alec at the look of wrath etched on her face.

Alec watched her approach. He saw the muscles in her shoulder tighten; saw her elbow draw up and back as she raised a clenched fist. He left his own hands dangling uselessly at his sides and let the blow come.

Max drove her fist into Alec’s face. The next second he measured his length on the ground, her punch laying him flat out at her feet. “You bastard,” she hissed. Her body vibrated with rage. Rage was good; it masked the hurt and betrayal underneath. She stood over him in an attack stance, ready for him to get up so she could knock him down again.

Mole jumped to his feet, belatedly realizing that this was not one of the couple’s usual tiffs. He swiftly moved up to defend his fallen leader.

Alec refused to lie at her feet. He wasn’t beneath her, no matter what she thought. Arching his back into a bridge, he flipped himself to his feet and retreated out of range of her lethal fists. If he was shaken by the loathing in her voice, he gave no outward sign of it.

Max glared at him. Hurt lurked beneath the anger in her brown eyes. She was breathing heavily, hands clenched, poised for another attack. Alec stared her down coolly. His eyes stayed locked in hers as he reached up and wiped the blood from his split lip with the pad of his thumb.

“You bastard.” Her voice was glacial; her glare even more so. Betrayal made her words bitter and sharp. “How could you?? I trusted you. You bastard!! Who the hell do you think you are…Lydecker?!?” 

“Max? Maxie, what’s wrong?” Syl approached the couple cautiously, hands raised in a non-threatening gesture. She kept her voice soft and soothing. Max looked ready to snap at the slightest provocation. She was shaking and her cheeks were pink, and not just from the cold outside. 

“He’s killing people.” Max flung the incriminating file at Alec’s chest. He made no effort to catch it and it fell to the floor. Glossy photos of dead bodies on autopsy tables spilled at his feet. “He’s been ordering assassinations. For months.”

‘ _Why am I even surprised?_ ’ she wondered bitterly. ‘ _Alec is the one who insisted on issuing a kill order last summer when we went after the cult._ ’ She took several deep breaths to try to calm herself, then realized she didn’t particularly want to be calm and abandoned the attempt.

Alec heard Mole’s sharply indrawn breath. He winced internally. Max wasn’t the only one he’d lied to. He and Dix had kept their activities a secret even from Freak Nation’s head of security, knowing Mole wouldn’t be able to resist baiting Max with the knowledge. He half expected the belligerent lizard to throw his support behind Max in fury at being kept out of the loop. There was nothing he liked better than a good hunt. Alec braced himself for another barrage.

Mole bent down and retrieved several photos from the floor. “Huh,” he grunted before tossing the photos onto the table. The cult symbol was clearly visible on the victims’ inner arms. “Looks like a bunch of dead Familiars to me.” He shrugged dismissively. “Fail to see how that’s a problem.”

Relief washed through Alec at Mole’s public declaration of support. He couldn’t hold back a smirk at the lizard-man’s comment. That was vintage Mole; bloodthirsty as ever.

“Stay out of this, Mole!” Max snapped. Her hands twitched at her sides, eager for another target to vent on. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“The hell it doesn’t!” Mole countered angrily. “If Alec is ordering hits on Familiars, he’s doing it to protect you and me and everyone in this room.”

“Protect us from what??” Max shrieked. “A few snake-worshipping loonies who still think they’re gonna rule the world? C’mon, people! The cult is not a threat! Not anymore. Or am I the only one that remembers kicking their ass?”

Mole dismissed that with a wave of his cigar. “Obviously Alec had Intel that says otherwise.”

“Oh, really.” Scorn dripped from Max’s voice. She planted her hands on her hips and stared him down. “Then how come he didn’t share with the rest of the class, huh? I’ll tell you why… because the Intel doesn’t exist. There’s no proof! This is just Alec on a power trip!”

“Maxie, maybe you’re… overreacting. Just a little.” Syl glanced around at the sea of transgenics staring with wide eyes as their favourite couple imploded. It was like watching a train derail; horrific and not for public consumption.

Jondy was quick to leap to Max’s defence. Alec was never her favourite transgenic anyway; she had long since believed he wasn’t good enough for her baby sister. Shouldering her way through the crowd, she stepped up beside Max, hands braced on her hips. “Overreacting?” she repeated snidely. “Tell me Syl, just how IS she supposed to react when she finds out her boyfriend has been killing in cold blood?”

“This is NOT the time or place to be having this conversation,” Syl hissed. The last thing Max and Alec needed right now was Jondy egging Max on. 

Max blanched. Up until that point she had been too angry to notice the audience. She nodded slowly.

“Why not?” Jondy interjected. “I think we all have a right to know. If he’s killing people, he’s put us all in danger. What was Zack’s only rule for surviving on the outside, Syl?”

“That’s differ--” Syl started to answer before Jondy cut her off and answered her own question. 

“Lay low. Don't draw attention to yourself. Don't give them a reason to come after us.” Jondy snorted. “Here’s a hint… unsanctioned assassinations do not constitute laying low.”

Bolstered by her sister’s support, Max rounded on Alec. He was standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets and a slightly bored expression on his face. It infuriated her. “How many? How many innocent people did you order killed?” she demanded.

“None,” Alec rebuked calmly. “None of them were innocent, Max. I’m eliminating enemy combatants. Each and every target was a Familiar.”

Max’s jaw dropped. “That’s your excuse?” she sputtered, slightly hysterical. “They’ve been brainwashed by a cult since birth so they must die? Do you have any idea how hypocritical that is??” She flung her arms out, gesturing to the transgenics at the surrounding tables. “Take a look around you, Alec! That’s exactly the same crap White said about us!!” 

“Kinda the point, princess,” Mole muttered. He glowered at Max, infuriated. Alec was his C.O. and –- more importantly –- his friend. He was also the only X5 Mole trusted. He was not going to stand idly by and let a Niner slag him in public. Even if she was his girlfriend.

Finn and Reina, two of Alec’s best covert operatives, not to mention two of his closest friends from back at Manticore, stepped up to flank Alec. He was gratified by the show of support and indicated it with a tip of his head. They nodded back just as solemnly. Max ignored them all. She had eyes only for Alec. She glared at him, arms crossed defensively over her heart.

“Everybody just calm down,” Syl urged. Her words fells on deaf ears.

“Well, let’s hear it Alec. I wanna know what lame excuse you came up with to justify murder.”

Alec laughed; a dry, bitter totally sound devoid of mirth. He had lost her. Nothing he said now would repair the damage. She would never look at him the same way again. Grief made him sound harsh and callous. “What’s the point of even trying to defend myself to you Maxie? You’ve already condemned me.”

“That’s it? You’re not even going to pretend to be sorry?” Max just stared at him, bewildered by the depths of his arrogance. “You just don’t get it, do you?”

“I will not apologize for doing my Job,” Alec snarled. Deep inside his pockets his hands curled into fists. “I shouldn’t have to. I identified a threat to this base and the lives of everyone in it. I took steps to eliminate that threat. End of discussion.”

He refused to second-guess himself. The breeding cult was a threat to transgenics and humans alike. Humans would never accept them with open arms -– even Logan couldn’t fully and he was in love with one of them -– but eliminating a common threat might be enough to buy their freedom. And in any case, it was sheer folly to leave an enemy at your back. Max used to know that.

Max blanched at the lack of remorse in Alec’s voice. Tears burned her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She would not be weak. Not here. Not now. “I trusted you. I can’t believe I let you touch me. I loved--” She trailed off, shaking her head in denial. Her whole body trembled. “I defended you to Logan,” she hissed. “I told him you were a good man. That you’d changed. Guess the joke’s on me. I was an idiot to trust Manticore’s favourite pet assassin. You’re nothing but a cold-blooded killer.”

Alec flinched at the harsh accusation. Pride held his body straight and his head high. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing how much her rejection hurt. He had survived a broken heart once; he could do it again.

Max turned away from the pain lurking in Alec’s hazel eyes. He had no right to be hurt. He’d lied to her. ‘ _What did he expect me to do? Just stand by and do nothing while he blithely orders transgenics to kill?_ ’

“Max!” Syl hissed. She hadn’t missed the pain that flashed through Alec’s eyes before he masked it, though her sister probably had. She was too enraged to see reason right now. One wrong word spoken in the heat of the moment would do irreparable damage to their relationship.

Joshua whimpered. His eyes darted back and forth between Alec and Max. He looked ill, not knowing which of his two friends to support. Syl laid a comforting hand on his arm. She was equally torn. Max was her baby sister but Alec had proven himself to her. He was family too.

“I did my Job,” Alec retorted, suddenly furious. He lashed out, wanting Max to hurt as badly as he did. “Just like you asked me to. You made me tactical commander, remember?”

“Don’t you dare put this on me!” She was stunned immobile. Had he really thought he could lay the corpses at her feet like a cat with a dead mouse, and expect her thanks? She swallowed the bile that rose at the back of her throat. 

She had fought so hard and for so long to get free of Manticore. She couldn’t go back to that mindset. Transgenics were better than that. They had to be; humans would never accept them otherwise. Alec had jeopardized everything. Assassinating Familiars wouldn’t protect them. If anything, it put them in more danger. If the world ever found out, they’d have a pitchfork-waving mob at their heels for the rest of their lives. They would never be able to stop running. Never be free. Why couldn’t Alec understand that? 

“This isn’t good tactics,” she choked out past a lump in her throat so big it threatened to suffocate her, “it’s _murder_.”

Alec stared back at Max, his face impassive. There was no mercy in her pitiless gaze. She was fuelled by self-righteous fury. Too many years running from her past and playing at being human had convinced her that killing was wrong ergo he was wrong. He wasn’t stupid; he had known full well how this would end. Max would never accept that he had done what he had to in order to protect Sanctuary. They would never be safe as long as the cult was still out there.

‘ _Life was so much simpler when I didn’t give a damn,_ ’ he thought bitterly. ‘ _I should’ve stuck with that._ ’

But he did care. Maybe too much. This was his family. He couldn’t let them down. They -– she -– needed him to make the hard decisions that would keep them all safe. Cold comfort for a broken heart. Why couldn’t Max understand? Why did he have to choose between her and his family? He would never ask her to make that choice.

A small part of him hated her for that.

Max searched Alec’s eyes desperately. She had to understand. Had to know what drove him to it. Was it Manticore’s ruthlessness… or Ben’s passion for the kill?

But there was nothing there. His eyes were blank. Uncaring. Either he didn’t understand what he had done was wrong, or he just didn’t care. Either way, he was what Manticore wanted him to be. 

A killer.

X5-494.

They stared at each other in silence while the gulf between them grew ever wider. 

Max blinked back tears she refused to shed. She could taste the ashes of her dead dreams on her tongue. Turning her back on her mate, she walked away, sickened and heartbroken to her very soul.

“No more. This is over. Finished. And so are we. Stay the hell away from me.”

 

 


	5. A matter of perspective

The forest lay silent and still under the pale moonlight. Hoarfrost limed bare branches like fairy dust. Snow blanketed the ground; dry and crisp and powdery, with a hard crust that crunched underfoot and sparkled like diamonds. Dark firs marched like sentinels through the valley, the ominous backdrop to this glittering winter scene.

A pair of dark eyes stared out at the world, seeing everything and nothing. Max was perched on the edge of the ridge overlooking the frozen river. She was lost in thought, curled into a pitiful ball with her knees tucked beneath her chin. A faded patchwork quilt provided protection against the elements. She was warm enough despite the frigid winter cold, her elevated body temperature heating the air trapped within the quilt’s folds. She snuggled deeper into its warmth, closing her weary eyes and tucking her face into her knees.

If only she could stop her thoughts as easily as she shut out the world. She longed for the Space Needle and the clarity of thought the High Place used to bring her. Here she was muddled and confused, a mass of conflicting feelings and regrets and accusations. It had all gone so wrong.

When the first rays of false dawn touched the sky, Max stood and stretched, shaking her legs and stomping her feet to restore circulation to her cramped muscles. She cocked her head to the side and listened intently for a moment, then smiled. Folding the quilt into a neat square, she draped it over a branch to retrieve later. With a wild leap Max took flight, bounding down the ridge and disappearing under the trees, moving too fast to for even transgenic eyes to track.

If she couldn’t stop her thoughts, maybe she could outrun them.

 

* * *

 

Sleep eluded him.

Alec had tossed and turned all night, unable to quiet his thoughts long enough to catch some rest. Rolling over for the umpteenth time, he snarled and punched the pillow in frustration, vainly trying to force it into a shape that might lull him into sleep. He wanted to be in his comfortable bed, warm and safe and curled up next to his beautiful, tempestuous mate. What he got was a spot on Joshua’s lumpy couch. The upholstery smelled faintly of wet dog and mac’n’cheese and made his nose twitch.

He didn’t even have the comfort of being drunk. Joshua and -– surprisingly -– Mole had refused to let him park himself at the bar yesterday. Not that he really wanted to drink himself into oblivion. He gave up trying to lose himself in alcohol a long time ago. It never helped as much as it promised to.

Still, the numbness would be welcome right about now.

Sighing, Alec rolled over onto his back and stared blindly up at the ceiling. ‘ _Max can’t stay mad at me forever,_ ’ he thought hopefully then rolled his eyes at his own naivety. Max was the reigning Grudge Queen. More than likely she would stay mad at him forever.  

When the sun crested the tree line, Alec gave up all pretence at sleep. It wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight, and probably not for several nights to come. Guilt was a bitch that way.

Rolling off the couch, Alec stood and arched into a full-body stretch. Powerful muscles rippled and flexed as he rose on his toes, hands straining above his head to touch the ceiling. One by one his vertebrae cracked and popped back into alignment, making him grunt in relief. Yawning, he yanked his rumpled t-shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor, absently scratching his stomach as he padded across the small apartment to the bathroom.

Quickly stripping off his boxers, he stepped into the shower and moaned softly in pleasure as the hot water hit him. He was cold, inside and out. He stood there for a very long time letting the heat soak into him. Steam rolled out to fog the small room. Gradually the aches and pains from a sleepless night eased as tense muscles relaxed and unkinked. Grabbing the soap he worked up a thick lather and quickly washed himself all over, hands gliding over his taut and muscular body with clinical detachment.

Frustrated anger welled up inside him. Desperate to feel something -– anything -– other than empty regrets, Alec braced his shoulder against the shower wall and reached between his thighs. A few quick tugs brought his cock to full hardness. He pleasured himself in fast, rough jerks, slim hips pumping into a tight fist. The pad of his thumb glided over the sensitive tip on every upstroke until his skin was drenched with precum. His free hand snaked between his legs to cup his testicles. He rolled the delicate orbs in his palm, stroking the velvety soft skin and pulling on the sac almost to the point of pain. Feeling his balls tighten as he neared his release, he gripped his shaft tighter and sped up the rhythm of his strokes. Head flung back, muscles straining and hips thrusting, he rode his need. With a strangled moan he came; his orgasm sharp and hard. The release sent a warm buzz shooting through his limbs down to his fingers and toes. Panting, he watched as his seed splattered against the shower wall only to wash down the drain in a swirl of water.

When the all-too-brief pleasure faded, Alec cursed himself in disgust. He wanted Max, not his hand. He pressed his face to the cool tile, water sluicing over his back and shoulders and enveloping him in his own private, watery hell. There was nothing left to distract him from his misery. 

“Max,” he whispered mournfully.

The irony of it all was that he couldn’t even blame her for leaving him; she wouldn’t be his Maxie without her uncompromising sense of morality. But unlike Max, idealism was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Someone had to take responsibility and make the hard decisions and that obviously wasn’t going to be her. Not with the lessons she had learned from the humans… and from Logan. The crippled hacker had infected Max with his black-and-white morality; made her ashamed to see the grey in the world. Easy enough for him to say that murder was never justified, isolated as he was in his ivory tower. He had no idea of what went on in the real world.

Alec shook his head. No; he’d made the right decision. Lethal force was the only way to contain the breeding cult. Granted, it was a knife that could cut both ways and either earn them their freedom or bring an enraged mob to their door, howling for blood.

Good thing he excelled with bladed weapons.

Alec chuckled, the bleak sound echoing off the tiles. He had known what it would cost him when he issued the kill order and he gave it anyway. He was either an idiot or an honourable man. ‘ _It’s a toss-up at this point,_ ’ Alec sneered at himself then shrugged, defeated. Either way, it was irrelevant. The mission came first. It had to. Nothing else mattered next to that. 

But by gods, it hurt. He felt betrayed. Wounded and betrayed and angry and so. Damn. Tired. Bone-deep weariness flowed through his lean body. He sagged against the shower wall.

Why couldn’t Max trust him? He’d given up everything to follow her lead back in Seattle; his faith in her based on nothing more than her ball-busting attitude and a half-assed promise of something better. 

What was so wrong with him that she couldn’t see past the soldier to the good man that lived inside? Why couldn’t she see him and not just his designation?

Alec turned his face into the spray. The water beat down on his closed eyes. If a few stray tears slipped down his wet cheeks, not even he could say. 

 

* * *

 

Max was miserable.

Miserable, distressed, hurt, angry, confused, frustrated… The list went on. She was physically and mentally worn out. She wanted to pitch a fit in the middle of the quad -– rant and rave and scream and cry and throw things and generally behave as badly as she could. She wanted everyone to know just how pissed off she was. She wanted Alec to know, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of watching her lose control because of him.

Instead her subconscious directed her feet to the familiar and the comfortable, and she found herself standing outside Joshua’s apartment door. Max raised her hand to knock. She was tired and drained from thinking too much. It was still early; maybe if she crashed on his couch she could sleep for an hour or two. ‘ _Or 12,_ ’ she snorted. ‘ _Not like I’m going to work today._ ’ The idea of seeing Alec again made her stomach clench up in knots.

This was even worse than the time she caught him selling andy on the streets of Seattle. He was killing people and using military bullshit logic to justify it. It was Ben all over again.

Max stepped away from the door and started to pace nervously. ‘ _I can’t do this. I can’t!!  I can’t just get over it. That’s insane. What he’s doing is wrong! There has to be a line somewhere. We’re not animals. We don’t just kill people because they’re in our way or because we don’t like their choice in body art. We’re better than that. We have to be._ ’ Max twisted her hands nervously as she paced, the knuckles turning white from the strain. ‘ _Oh god!_ _I can’t be with him. I can’t even look at him, not after what he did. I killed my own brother for doing the same damn thing for fuck’s sake!_ ’

Max paused mid-pace. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t exactly the same but it wasn’t completely different either. Both twins killed people for their own twisted agendas. And both twins put transgenics at risk because of it. Max shook her head vehemently and resumed pacing. ‘ _No. I’m never going to forgive Alec for this. I can't!! Not when I couldn’t do it for Ben._ ’

A small part of Max realized how irrational that sounded, but she refused to let herself care. Hurt, confused and betrayed, she clung to what she knew: Manticore was bad. Ipso facto, anything Manticore would endorse was wrong.

Blowing out a deep cleansing breath, Max abandoned her pacing and stepped up to Joshua’s door. There was no answer to her soft knock so she grabbed the knob and let herself in. The knob turned easily in her hand; what was the point in locking the door when you lived in a den of thieves?

“Hey Big Fella,” Max called out softly as she entered Joshua’s apartment. Shutting the door behind her, Max paused to breathe deeply, absorbing the familiar scent. His home always smelled faintly of canine, man’n’cheese, and paint.

“Joshua?” she called softly. “You up?” She could hear the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Max grinned and decided to surprise him with breakfast when he got out. Memories of the pancake breakfast she made for Alec yesterday morning popped unbidden into her head. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. 

Was it really only yesterday? It felt like an eternity had passed since then.

Squaring her shoulders, she forged ahead into the kitchen and was about to make herself at home when the sight of a familiar charcoal leather jacket hanging from Joshua’s coat tree belatedly registered in her tired mind. Max slowly turned around and walked back to the entrance way. She reached out and fingered the tell-tale bullet hole in the upper left sleeve, her hand moving almost of its own volition. Turning around, she ran a critical gaze over and around the living room. Details leapt out at her and she wondered how she missed them on her way through earlier.

Alec’s boots were kicked halfway under the couch, his Glock was on the coffee table, and his duffle bag was on the floor near the door. The couch itself was made up as a spare bed. The noise of the running shower suddenly took on new implications.

Max panicked. She wasn’t ready for this. It was too soon. She spent the entire night thinking about Alec and she still didn’t know what to think about any of it. She wasn’t ready to face him yet; wasn’t ready to hear more lies and excuses.

She had just turned to bolt when the bedroom door unexpectedly opened and Joshua stepped out. “Max?!” the gentle giant exclaimed, startled to see his friend standing with one hand on his door and fear in her eyes. “Max!” he repeated excitedly and bounded across the room. Wrapping his arms around her slim body, he enfolded her into a hug. 

Max returned his hug stiffly. Joshua watched her through hopeful eyes, which confused her for a moment until understanding dawned. Max shook her head and pulled away.

“So… looks like Alec made himself right at home,” she said somewhat snidely. Why did the fact that Alec had moved out hurt so badly? It wasn’t like they could still live together after what he’d done. 

“Medium Fella needed a place to sleep,” Joshua explained with a casual shrug.

“And you told him to make himself at home,” Max muttered and half turned away. She was unreasonably hurt that Joshua was siding with Alec.

Joshua cocked his head to one side and stared at Max for a moment. “Joshua not taking sides,” he finally said, identifying the source of Max’s hurt feelings in that intuitive way he sometimes had. “Joshua and Max family. Joshua and Alec family.” He laid a finger under her chin and gently tipped her face up, forcing her to look at him. “Max and Alec family too.”

Max huffed and tossed her head, but she didn’t actually deny it.

“Alec not living with Joshua. Alec needed to not be alone. Now Alec go home with Max.”

“He took all his stuff.” Max toed the open duffle bag with her boot. 

“Just one bag. Small bag. Alec take it home again easy,” Joshua nodded emphatically. “No biggie.” Bending down, he picked up the bag in question and held it out to Max.

Max refused to take it. “No. It... it’s better this way.” Max frowned. Her voice lacked the conviction it ought to carry.

Joshua whimpered and pressed the bag at Max. For one dizzying second she imagined taking it before reality slammed back in and she came to her senses. She backed away and wrapped her arms around her ribs. “No,” she repeated, infinitely more firmly this time. 

“Why?” he asked plaintively. “Why can’t Alec go home with Max?”

Max shrugged. She didn’t know what to tell him. “It’s not that easy.” 

“It can be!” Joshua insisted. Max and Alec were his family. He hated it when they fought.

“He killed people, Joshua!” Max exploded. “He played judge and jury and he condemned them to death! What he did…” She shook her head. “There have to be consequences.”

It was Joshua’s turn to shrug. “Maybe they deserved to be dead.”

Max’s mouth dropped open. She stared at her best friend, dumbfounded at his nonchalant endorsement of murder. “H-how can you defend him?!?” she stammered.

Joshua’s eyes went cold and flat. “White killed Annie. Because he could. The others… they’re just like White.”

“And Alec had them killed,” Max retorted, “Because he could.” She threw her hands in the air. “We don’t even know if they were a threat!”

“So Alec the bad guy now,” Joshua said, changing tactics. 

“Yes,” Max said emphatically, relieved that she was finally getting through to Joshua. “Killing is wrong.”

“Always wrong?”

Max hesitated a bare second then nodded firmly. “Yes.”

“Even when killing is to save yourself?”

Max looked away, unable to meet Joshua’s eyes.

“Cult hate us, Maxie. They believe what White believe. That you and me and them,” he said, pointing at himself and Max and then at the apartments outside his walls, “…Freaks. Animals.They want us dead. Because trannies not like them.”

“What Alec is doing… it’s not self-defence, Joshua.” Max said softly, her face twisted in sympathy. She laid her hand on Joshua’s arm. She knew it would be hard for him to face what Alec had done, but she hadn’t realized just how hard.

“Why?” 

This time Joshua’s ‘why’ was just a quiet request for more information. Max found she couldn’t refuse. “Because, because…” She struggled for the words to make her gentle friend understand. For some odd reason she didn’t know how to express what she knew in her bones to be true. Killing was wrong. End of story. So why was she finding it so hard to convince him?

“Because they aren’t standing here with a gun at our heads!” Max concluded triumphantly.

“They would, if they knew where to stand.” Joshua pointed out reasonably. Max flinched. She opened her mouth to deny it and found she had nothing to say.

“This is war, Little Fella. Manticore tell Alec, tell you… in war everyone like us –- good guy. Everyone not like us –- bad guy. Enemy. Protect your own. Kill every body else.” Joshua cradled Max’s small hands between his larger ones and stared intently in her eyes. “Alec protecting us. The way Manticore told him to.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Max pulled her hands out of Joshua’s grasp. She was too disillusioned and betrayed to listen to anyone defend Alec right now. “He lied to me. I can’t trust him. And you shouldn’t either.”

Turning on her heel, she slipped out the door and was gone without a backward glance.

 

* * *

 

Martin Webber, age 42, was in perfect physical shape. He ran 5 miles before breakfast every day and played squash twice a week. He lifted weights until he was more toned than many a man half his age. His impressive musculature was marred only by the unsightly Y-incision across his chest.

Agent Otto Gottlieb sighed and discreetly turned the dead man’s arm to expose the caduceus branded into his inner elbow. “You said the cause of death was a fall down the stairs.”

“That’s correct,” replied the coroner, a tall man with thinning grey hair and metal-rimmed glasses. He was gaunt and had prominent cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and deep-set eyes, which gave his face the appearance of a skull. His fingers were unusually long and thin. He looked about as lively as one of his cadavers.

“What about these cuts and bruises?” Otto asked, indicating the blacked marks on the man’s torso. “What’s the story there?”

“The contusions occurred perimortum. A result of the fall.” 

Otto raised one eyebrow. “Any signs of foul play?”

The coroner stiffened. “What are you suggesting, Agent Gottlieb?” 

Otto chuckled silently. Five minutes ago the coroner was calling him by his first name; now they were back to formalities. ‘ _And the local coppers’ hatred for feds is alive and well,_ ’ he thought sarcastically. ‘ _Good. I was starting to get worried._ ’ He sipped his coffee, thoughtfully provided by the coroner before he started poking his nose into a local investigation. “It’s just a question, Doctor,” he said mildly.

“Body position and injuries are both consistent with a fall,” the coroner said stiffly. “The victim’s blood alcohol level was 3 times the legal limit. He had too much to drink and slipped and fell down the stairs in his own home. A tragic accident, nothing more.”

“So you’re ruling this as an accidental death.”

“Yes. I am.” 

Otto nodded and turned to leave.

“Just what is your interest in the death of Mr. Webber, Agent Gottlieb?”

Otto smiled enigmatically and raised his paper coffee cup in a toast. “Thanks for the coffee, Doctor. Have a nice day.”

Once back outside the morgue, Otto sighed and pinched his nose. He breathed deeply, trying to rid his lungs of the sour aftertaste of the bleach and antiseptic. That smelled always seemed to linger long after he left the morgue behind. Pitching his cup into the trash, Otto shoved his hands in his coat pockets and started to walk.

Martin Webber, age 42, a man with a well-known taste for expensive Irish whiskey, drank too much one night and slipped and fell to his death. It was about as neat and tidy as death ever got. A tragic accident; nothing more. Certainly not a homicide.

Otto would believe it too, if he hadn’t read Manticore mission files detailing this exact scenario.

The X5s were masters of their craft. They had assassinated Mr. Webber and a dozen other Familiars in the last three months alone without raising a single suspicion among local law enforcement. 

Transgenics were assassins by trade. The best in the world back in the day. Although apparently that description was still very much applicable today. Only now their killings were unsanctioned by any United States government organization, Black Ops or otherwise.

The facts were clear. Transgenics were cold-blooded killers -– either terrorists or serial killers, depending on your perspective -– and they were getting away with murder.

And yet, Otto couldn’t decide what -– if anything! -– he was supposed to do about it. Things weren’t as black and white as the facts suggested. If one enemy of the state chose to wage war on another, was it not in the best interests of the state to stand back and let them kill each other off?

 


	6. Secrets

‘ _Eating is a highly over-rated activity,_ ’ Max decided grumpily. Especially when it involved sitting alone at a table meant for 12.

Every transgenic in the dining hall was giving her a wide berth. Some sent her blatantly hostile looks while others seemed more sympathetic. A few looked like they might have approached, if her reputation for being a bitch and a Niner hadn’t gotten in the way.

Max drank her coffee in sullen silence. She toyed with her food, pushing it back and forth around the plate. Her bad mood made it taste like cardboard and ruined what little appetite she had. She hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours –- not ideal for a genetically revved up body. ‘ _Note to self… low blood sugar is a major mood killer._ ’

Max would never admit –- not even in the privacy of her own mind -– that she felt depressed because she missed Alec. 

‘ _Better get used to it,_ ’ her inner bitch snarked.

Max scowled into the dregs of her coffee, dark and bitter like her mood, and felt very sorry for herself.

“I think you slayed it.”

Syl’s amused voice broke up her pity party. Jerking her attention back to her surroundings, Max stared down at her plate and made a face. She’d unwittingly stabbed the life out of her food and reduced it to an unrecognizable mush. Sighing, she dropped her fork and pushed the unappetizing meal aside. 

“Bad day, huh?” Syl said sympathetically as she took a seat opposite the miserable brunette. 

Max glared at her but she hadn’t the energy to put much heat into it. “I’m entitled,” she retorted waspishly. “I just dumped my boyfriend for being a cold-blooded killer, remember?” Max perked up slightly, anticipating the chance to engage in a little girl talk with her sister. After the disastrous talk with Joshua, she badly needed someone to take her side.

Syl ducked her head and squirmed uncomfortably in her hard plastic seat. “Maxie…” she said hesitatingly, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, because you’re my sister and I love ya to death and I get that you’re hurting but… I really don’t think that I’m the best person to talk to about this.”

Max stared at the top of the blonde’s bent head. Hurt ran through her at the rejection. “Oh I’m sorry,” she said with sweet sarcasm, “Are my problems boring you? Tell you what, why don’t I just go crawl into a hole so I don’t bother you anymore.”

Syl shot Max a guilty look, blue eyes full of remorse but also resolute. “Maxie, I feel terrible about what happened. I wish I could fix it. But… Alec is my friend too. I don’t want to take sides and I don’t want to get in a fight with you about it.”

“You don’t want to take sides,” Max repeated blankly before exploding. “Hello!?! He’s ordering hits like he’s the freakin’ Godfather! What’s there to debate?!”

“Please Max, I really don’t want to get into this with you,” Syl appealed. “Can’t we just talk about something else? Krit is going to join us and I thought we could--”

“You can’t possibly think Alec is right,” Max cut her sister off mid-sentence. She stared at Syl in bewilderment. Was she the only X5 with morals? “Oh. My. God! You think he’s right. What the hell is wrong with you, Syl?!”

“What’s wrong with  _me_? What’s wrong with  _you_?” Syl retorted, insulted. How dare Max look at her with that condescending, self-righteous attitude, like she was some kind of deviant because she didn’t think Alec was Evil Incarnate.   

Max scowled and sat back in her chair with her arms crossed. She tried to keep the anger in her voice so she wouldn’t betray how hurt she felt. “I dunno. You tell me.”

Syl sighed. She really did not want to have this conversation. “Maxie…”

“Syl…” Max mocked. “You got something to say, so say it. Enlighten me.”

Syl analyzed Max for several long minutes. “You really wanna know what I think?”

Max nodded sharply. “I asked, didn’t I.” 

“Fine.” Syl shrugged. “You’ve gone soft.”

“Excuse me?!” Max sputtered, her eyes wide in shock. Whatever she’d expected Syl to say, that wasn’t it. “What the hell?!? I’ve gone soft because I think assassination is wrong?”

“Did the Ordinary convince you of that?” Syl asked. She shook her head pityingly.

“Leave Logan out of this,” Max hissed.

“Like it or not Max, we’re soldiers. We’re at war. The Ordinaries’ rules don’t apply.”

“We’re. Not. Manticore.” Max ground out from between clenched teeth. “We don’t have to take out everyone and anyone who knows about us!” 

“Not everyone,” Syl agreed blandly. “Just the threats.” 

“Threats? What threats?! Those people weren’t part of the attack on Seattle. They were just living their lives until Alec ordered them dead!”

“Do you even know who the targets were or what they did for a living?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Max said dismissively.

Syl gaped at her, flabbergasted that anyone raised by Manticore could be so naive. “It matters, Max. It matters a lot.”

“The. Cult. Is. Not. A. Threat.” Max threw her hands in the air. How many times did she have to say it? “If they were, we’d know. I'd know.”

Syl stared at Max for several seconds. The brunette stared back, intractable. ‘ _Always so stubborn,_ ’ Syl lamented. ‘ _She must have mule DNA in her cocktail or something._ ’ Syl despaired of making her sister see reason but she owed it to her and Alec both to try. She paused and chose her words carefully, attempting a flanking maneuver. “Has Dix translated another rune?”

“What?” Max blinked in confusion at the sudden change in topic. “No. There aren’t any more runes, Syl. I’m done with that.” There was a touch of wishful thinking in her words, but Max resolutely ignored it.

“Then how would you know if the cult was a threat? Is Sandeman going to beam you a message from the mothership?” Syl said facetiously. “Think, Max!” She leaned across the table. Trapping Max’s gaze in her own, she refused to let her sister look away. “You said it yourself, there aren’t going to be any more runes. We don’t have access to inside information anymore. The only reason Sandeman could warn us about the viral attack was because he knew  _exactly_  when it was scheduled to go down. We messed that up for them good and proper. They've gotta be pissed about that. If they’re gonna try again, they sure as hell aren’t going to wait another 700 years for the next planetary alignment.”

Syl paused. The next few words would make or break her relationship with Max. Would her stubborn sister look beyond her hurt feelings long enough to even listen? Syl shook her head. It didn’t matter; it had to be said. She took a deep breath. When she spoke, it was with absolute conviction. “Alec was right to order the kills. We have to contain the kind of damage they can do. Attack first. Beat them to the punch. Eliminate the threat. Anything less is irresponsible.”

“You’re taking his side,” Max said in disbelief. It was both a question and a comment. 

Syl sighed heavily. It was still too soon. Max wasn’t ready to understand, much less forgive. Syl silently promised to try again later. “Yes, I guess I am.”

“Bu-but you’re my sister,” Max stammered.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Syl asked, genuinely puzzled. 

Max stared at Syl. First Joshua; now Syl. ‘ _Apparently loyalty is an endangered species,_ ’ she thought bitterly. 

Typically, the fact that they remained loyal to Alec completely escaped her notice.

The staring match was broken by Krit’s arrival. Taking his place next to Syl, he dropped his tray on the table with a thump that made both girls jump. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

Neither girl answered him. Krit looked up from his plate and noticed the look of anger on Max’s face. Wrongfully interpreting the cause for it, he offered her a sympathetic smile.  Syl futilely gestured for Krit to be quiet but he missed it completely. “Still mad at Alec, huh Maxie?”

Syl groaned and slumped in her seat. She massaged her temples, futilely trying to ease the tension headache that seared her brain.

“Mad? Why would I be mad?” Max bared her teeth in a parody of a smile. “Just because he lied to me for months, that’s no reason to be upset, right.”

“You’re right, he should have told you,” Syl said placatingly. “But Maxie… he was just trying to protect you.”

Well, that was insulting. Max bristled angrily. She was an X5, not some helpless little girl. She didn’t need some man making decisions for her. She’d had more than enough of that from Deck, thank you very much. “You’re wrong. It’s not about protection. He thinks he’s untouchable. He does what he wants, when he wants, with no regard for the consequences.”

‘ _And why the hell wouldn’t he,_ ’ Max wondered despairingly, ‘ _when everyone is so willing to let him get away with it?_ ’

Syl rolled her eyes in exasperation. Alec did what he thought was right, even knowing it would cost him everything. That made him an honourable man in Syl’s mind. For that alone she would defend him.

“Maxie… Alec knew you’d freak and he did it anyway. What does that tell you?” Syl asked bluntly.

Max turned away, unable to meet the pity she was certain she would see in her siblings’ eyes. If Alec could go against her so easily, she could only assume it meant he didn’t really love her. She covered her misery with a flippant remark, saying “He’s a happy-go-lucky sociopath who thinks he can get away with murder?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Syl exploded. “You sound like you’re ready to start a bonfire and burn him at the stake.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Did you even read the Intel on the targets or did you just assume the worst about Alec because they’re dead?”

“I don’t need to read the Intel. What Alec did was wrong.” Max refused to admit the possibility that Alec might be right, no matter what Syl or Joshua had to say in his defence. And everyone pushing at her just made her dig her heels in more. She was stubborn that way.

“Alec was just looking out for us,” Syl countered. She pulled out her ace. “Zack would’ve done exactly the same thing.”

Max flinched, like she did every time one of her siblings mentioned their big brother. She still hadn’t told them the truth about what she’d done to him. “Zack kept us apart for 10 years. What the hell does he know?” she muttered. Her anger at herself made her sound petulant.

“Watch it, Maxie,” Syl warned, blue eyes flashing in inexplicable anger. Max’s reaction was always a little off whenever anyone mentioned Zack. She had a secret of her own that she was keeping from them. The hypocrisy of it infuriated her. ‘ _Double standard much?_ ’ “That’s an awfully high horse you’re riding,” Syl said snidely. “You wouldn’t want to fall off.” 

Max flushed red in shame and anger at the unexpected attack. It was too much. “Bitch,” she snarled. She bolted to her feet and ran, ignoring Krit’s shocked voice calling her name.

Everyone was turning against her. First Alec, then Joshua, and now Syl. Max balled her hands into tight fists. ‘ _It doesn’t matter,_ ’ she told herself fiercely. ‘ _They don’t matter._ ’ She refused to give in to them. She didn’t need Alec. She certainly didn’t need her turncoat sister. She didn’t need anyone. She’d done just fine on her own for years.

As she fled the dining hall, bitter tears stinging her eyes, Max made a vow to herself. She’d never back down from a fight before and she wasn’t about to start now. She’d die before she let them win.

 

* * *

 

Agent Otto Gottlieb tossed the useless report he was reading on top of the pile of similarly useless reports already stacked on his desk. ‘ _Not worth the paper it’s printed on,_ ’ he grumbled as he rubbed his eyes gone tired from staring at the fine print for far too long. He watched dumbly as the precariously balanced pile tipped and slowly fell to the floor.

‘ _I’d be better off shredding the damn things; they’d be a lot more useful as compost,_ ’ Otto sighed as he bent over and scooped up the mess of papers, shoving them back into folders at random.

Months of research, an entire room full of top NSA analysts at his disposal, the best in spook technology at his beck and call, and he had nothing to show for it. The transgenics had gone to ground and he hadn’t the faintest idea where they were holed up. 

They were just too damn good; too well trained. There hadn’t been a sighting in weeks. No trace; no clues. ‘ _Not even a trail of bread crumbs,_ ’ Otto laughed bleakly to himself.

The brass was going to be furious. He might even lose his job over it. Otto cringed. He could not let that happen, for a whole host of reasons, not the least of which was his pension. He was the only one on the inside who knew the truth about Agent White and the breeding cult.

A sudden thought occurred to him. Maybe it was time to change all that? He wasn’t making any progress hunting for the cult on his own. Maybe he should bring in a fresh pair of eyes?

Moving to his open door, Otto turned a speculative gaze on the room of analysts diligently working at their computers. Several had potential, the latest recruit in particular. Agent Seth Evans had been recruited to the NSA straight out of college. He could have been a field agent -– he certainly had the physique for it -– but he excelled at Intel and analysis.

The young man had been foisted onto Otto’s team by the higher-ups, which had annoyed Otto to no end at the time, but he had proven useful, Otto couldn’t deny that. He was probably the most dedicated analyst on the team. In his brief tenure with the Agency, Evans had produced several amazing reports that showed a rather remarkable insight into the transgenics’ psyche. He possessed an almost uncanny ability to put himself in the mindset of a genetically superior being.

True, the man was fanatically anti-transgenic and obsessed with uncovering their lair, almost as if their very existence was a personal affront, but Otto could work around that. Several members of his staff openly supported Humans First –- the radical, right-wing, human supremacist lobby group founded by Reverend Terry Caldwell. Surely a man with that kind of mindset would be equally incensed by the idea of a cabal of selectively bred super-humans who viewed ordinary people as cattle and were steadily infiltrating the US government?

Otto felt excitement and the beginnings of hope build in his gut. He could give the analyst White’s encrypted cell phone records. He certainly wasn’t having any luck cracking the security himself –- he was a field agent, not a hacker.

Evans picked that moment to step away from his desk. Unfortunately, his nose was buried in a file and he failed to yield to oncoming traffic. He collided head on with another analyst, jostling the mug of coffee in the woman’s hand and drenching his chest in the scalding hot liquid. 

‘ _Ouch,_ ’ Otto winced in sympathy, ‘ _that’s gotta hurt._ ’

Only it didn’t seem to.

Evans was complaining loudly and at some length about his ruined shirt. He never once mentioned the possibility of his ruined skin. Coffee that hot could leave third degree burns. Otto’s eyes darkened with the first stirrings of suspicion. ‘ _I don’t care how stoic a man is, that’s just not natural._ ’ He hurried over to the scene. 

“Idiot!” Evans snarled and swiped futilely at the stain with the tail end of his tie. The other analyst mumbled apologetically and attempted to dab at the stain with a crumpled napkin. Evans slapped her hands aside. “Don’t bother! I’ll do it myself.” 

“Better get yourself down to medical,” Otto counselled. “That looks painful.” He peered into Evans’ eyes. They were clouded with irritation, but not pain. Otto’s vague suspicion flared into full blown paranoia. 

“Oh… no, not really,” Evans said casually, waving off his boss’s concern. “I’ve got a high tolerance for pain.” He smirked smugly to himself, certain no one caught the deeper meaning behind his words.

Otto’s hand twitched imperceptibly towards his gun. He took a deep breath and forced himself not to react. “Really? How lucky for you.” Otto gestured towards his half-open door. “I’ve got a clean shirt in my office that should fit you. You’re welcome to borrow it if you’d like.” 

“I would appreciate that, sir. This one is completely ruined,” Evans complained bitterly, plucking at the wet material, his face distorted in a scowl.

Otto nodded and led the way to his office. Evans shot a dark look over his shoulder at the other analyst, making the woman cringe. The cold menace in his eyes promised revenge. Otto had his back to the room and missed the exchange. He reached for the clean shirt hanging on the hook behind the door while Evans peeled the ruined shirt off his body and used it to briskly dry himself off.

Otto stared at the half-naked man in mute horror. Evans’ chest was red and raw looking, but that wasn’t what caught his eye. A raised patch of skin was visible on the inside of his elbow –- a familiar looking burn scar, in the shape of a modified caduceus.

‘ _A Familiar burn scar._ ’ In the privacy of his own mind, Otto giggled hysterically at the unintended pun.

“Sir?”

Evans’ voice broke through Otto’s thoughts. He forced suddenly dry lips into a semblance of a bland smile and held out the shirt. “Here you go.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Tossing the stained shirt in the trash, the Familiar shrugged into the clean shirt and walked out of his boss’s office, completely oblivious to the fact that he’d just exposed his secret.

Otto slumped against the door, his forehead pressed to the smooth surface. The tremors began in his shoulders but soon spread downwards until his entire body shook with laughter. He could scarcely believe what had just happened. He knew the government had been compromised by agents of the cult. How arrogant to think they hadn’t targeted his own task force, especially after the death of Ames White.

He suddenly stopped laughing. A cold anger set in. Furious at being duped, his first impulse was to storm the outer room and arrest the traitor. His hand had already closed on the doorknob when common sense prevailed. Otto paused. His hand slowly dropped back down to his side.

Arresting the Familiar would only tip the cult off. No; better to leave the mole in play. After all, no one on his staff would be more motivated to locate the transgenics’ lair than their sworn enemy. Otto chuckled darkly; the idea of using the Familiar for his own ends appealed to his sense of justice.

Suddenly feeling weary of it all, Otto sat down heavily, his head falling back to rest against the back of his chair. It suddenly hit home that he was on his own. There was no one he could trust. He was in this fight alone. 

‘ _That’s not true,_ ’ the voice of sedition whispered seductively in his ear. ‘ _The transgenics are dealing with the problem as we speak. In fact, they probably already know all about that rat bastard Evans._ ’ 

He wondered how long it would be before Seth Evans was laid out on a cold metal autopsy table, dead from supposedly natural causes that were anything but. He found that thought didn’t bother him nearly as much as it ought to. Evans was a traitor and a terrorist; his mere presence in this office was a betrayal of everything Otto had spent his life fighting for. He’d be glad to see him dead.

Decision made, Otto reached for the phone. He needed to know exactly what the transgenics’ endgame was.

He didn’t want to get in their way.

True he had no idea how to contact her. Fortunately for his job and his sanity –- not to mention national security –- there there was one man –- one  _human_  –- he could trust to help him. The man who dropped him down this particular rabbit hole in the first place.

 

 


	7. Release

Alec stood alone in the gym. Two X6s were sparring in the boxing ring at the far end of the cavern but he ignored them. All of his concentration was focused on getting the tape perfectly wrapped around his hands. He was adamantly _not_ thinking about Max. In fact, he was so busy not thinking about Max that he couldn’t recall a single thing he’d done all day. It was all a blur. Alec rolled his eyes. That wasn’t like him; usually he was able to compartmentalize better than that.

The memory of the last time he saw Max popped unbidden into his mind. The look in her eyes… Alec shuddered. He’d seen that look once before -– in Rachel’s eyes, just before he killed her.

Lashing out, Alec kicked the bag hard enough the chain creaked and threatened to give. If he wasn’t thinking about Max, he sure as hell wasn’t thinking about _that_ look. Breathing deeply, he focused on the air moving in and out of his lungs until he was calm again. He bounced lightly on his toes, swung his arms to get the blood flowing, and then attacked the bag, settling into a steady rhythm of kicks and punches. Gradually his pace sped up; the punching bag a handy target for his pent up anger and frustration. His aggression level steadily mounted. Growling, teeth bared in a snarl, he let loose with all his strength and power. A vicious roundhouse kick snapped the chain and sent the bag flying.

Panting heavily, he hung his head. A shudder ran through him. It had been a long time since he lost control like that.

It felt good.

Closing his eyes, Alec breathed deeply, centering himself and regaining control of his raging emotions.

“Hmpff,” Reina sniffed. The petite Asian X5 stepped daintily around the fallen bag and approached the mat. “Wanna try that with a moving target?”

Alec’s lips twitched into a half-smile at the offer. “Nah, I’m good. Think I’m gonna go soak in the hot springs. But thanks anyway.”

“Sure,” Reina shrugged. “Whenever you feel like getting your ass kicked, pretty boy, you just let me know.”

Alec’s eyes darkened briefly. Kicking his ass used to be Max’s job description.

Reina touched his arm lightly. Alec forced a smile that slowly turned genuine as he stared into Reina’s dark eyes. There was no pity there, only friendship and caring. Changing his mind, he reached out and tapped Reina lightly on the shoulder. “Tag…you’re It,” he said with a cheeky grin.

Reina’s eyes lit up in anticipation. She grinned and nodded, “Bring it on.” She quickly kicked off her boots and yanked her sweater over her head, leaving her in a form fitting tank top, and stepped onto the mat. The two X5s began to circle; eyes locked, searching for a hole in their opponent’s defences.

“What are you waiting for, 229?” Alec taunted. “A written invitation?”

“Why so impatient, 494? You that eager to kiss the mat?” 

Reina moved before she finished speaking. Darting forward, she caught Alec’s arm at the wrist and yanked hard, throwing him off balance. Alec recovered quickly. Turning the fall into a dive, he caught her around the knees and tackled her to the ground. Reina went down hard, hitting the ground on her stomach. She bucked but Alec had her legs trapped and she couldn’t kick free. Flipping her over, he pinned her shoulders to the mat.

“That’s one for me,” he grinned down at her.

“You got lucky,” she scoffed. “It won’t happen again.”

Reina brought her arms up and out, breaking Alec’s hold. Using her legs for leverage, she flipped him over her head. She made a grab for him but Alec rolled smoothly out of the way and to his feet. Reina arched her back into a bridge and flipped herself upright. They circled warily, enhanced senses on alert for the smallest opening. Reina feinted to the left and then lunged. Alec deftly twisted to the side to avoid her grab, then caught Reina around the waist and flipped her over her hip.

“What was that about luck?” he asked cheekily.

“Ooff,” Reina grunted as she hit the mat hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. Lack of breath never stopped a transgenic for long, however. Kicking out, she swept Alec’s feet out from under him. He landed on his ass. Throwing herself on top of him, Reina pinned his shoulders to the mat.

“One,” she grinned triumphantly. 

“Gotta do better than that,” Alec jeered. Planting his foot against the mat, he twisted his hips and rolled them both over, pinning her beneath him. “That’s two,” he smirked. “Wanna yield now and save yourself further embarrassment?”

“Yield? To you? Never!” Reina scoffed.

She squirmed and managed to get enough leverage with her arms to shove Alec off her. She scrambled to her feet but before she could get clear Alec tackled her to the ground. Reina kicked out wildly with both legs. One foot caught him high on his inner thigh. She giggled as Alec rolled clear, one arm pressed defensively across his groin.

“Watch it,” he grumbled, “I need those.”

“Men,” Reina said, rolling her eyes. “Always thinking about your little brain.”

“Hey!” Alec protested. “There is nothing little about my brain. Either of them.” 

Taking advantage of his distraction, Reina lunged forward and grabbed Alec by his shirt. He stepped back to try and pull free of her hold before she could throw him, but Reina hooked her foot behind his ankle and tripped him. They both went down with Reina on top. She pinned his arms with her knees.

“Two,” she announced loftily. “Tie game.” 

Grinning at each other, they rolled free and scrambled to their feet on opposite sides of the mat. Once again they circled. Spotting an opening at the same time, they collided, grappling with arms and legs as they tussled for dominance. Snagging a fistful of his shirt, Reina dropped her weight backwards, ready to toss him over her shoulder when Alec went limp and sagged in her grip. She overbalanced under the sudden shift in weight and toppled to the ground. Alec crash landed on top of her, pinning her smaller form with his body.

It was more by luck than design, but that didn’t stop him from taking credit. “Three. I win!!” he crowed.

“Peachy. Now get off me before I suffocate, you big lump,” Reina grumbled, pushing weakly at him. Privately she was pleased to see the twinkle back in his eyes.

Alec smirked but obligingly rolled off of her. Stretching out on his side he propped his head up on one hand and plucked at his damp and stained t-shirt with the other. Sweat made it cling to his torso. He grimaced in distaste. “Yuck. I stink.” 

Reina wrinkled her nose and nodded. “Yeah. You really do.” Alec pouted. Reina laughed. “Relax, you’re still cute.”

“Take that back!” Alec ordered in a huff. “I’m not ‘cute’!”

“What’s wrong with cute?” She gave him a look that was half confused and half amused.

“Kittens and puppies and fluffy little bunny rabbits are cute,” Alec sneered. “X5s with hot, tight bods like mine,” he bragged as he ran a hand down his chest to his abs, “are not ‘cute’. Hot, sexy, drop dead gorgeous… But definitely not cute.” 

“Fine,” Reina rolled her eyes. “You’re hot. Happy now?”

“Hah! I always knew you had the hots for me.” Alec blew her a kiss. Reina gave him the bitch eye and flipped him off. He chuckled and held up his hands in mock surrender. “I really need that soak now. I’m outta here.” 

“‘Kay. Catch you later.”

“Thanks,” Alec said softly.

“It’s no biggie,” Reina said casually.

Alec snorted. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to her, but it was to him. There hadn’t been that many people in his life who cared enough to cheer him up when he was down. He watched the diminutive X5 walk away with a wistful smile on his face. Reina had the same fire as Max but without the volatile attitude. She didn’t look down on him for his past. Plus, she was gorgeous.

‘ _Why couldn’t I fall for a girl that actually likes me?_ ’ Alec sighed and shook his head. ‘ _Idiot._ ’

He peeled the sweaty t-shirt off with a grimace. Draping it over one shoulder, he headed for a long soak in the hot springs. It was deserted, which suited him just fine. He was in a much better mood thanks to the workout with Reina but he wasn’t up for idle chit chat. 

Shucking off the rest of his clothes, he eased into the water, hissing at little at the heat. He dunked his head, wetting his hair, and then floated lazily on his back. Steam swirled lazily through the cavern, stirred by the faint breeze let in by the flue holes in the roof of the cavern.

Staring blankly up at the ceiling, he let his thoughts wander. He couldn’t help but remember the times he and Max snuck into the pool late at night when everyone else was asleep. A bitter smile twisted his lips at the memories. They’d washed each other’s backs -– and other body parts -– touching and teasing and fooling around until they couldn’t stand it any longer, and then made love.

His cock stirred. Alec looked down at it in disbelief. ‘ _Now is NOT the time!_ ’ he lectured. It stayed stubbornly erect. Alec groaned. Letting his head fall back to rest against rock wall of the pool, he closed his eyes and tried to will his erection away.

 

* * *

 

Mourning her break-up with Alec was making Max morose and bitchy –- a toxic combination. Her firmly-held and oft-expressed belief that she was right and that Alec was a cold-blooded killer without a conscience wasn’t helping matters either. Everyone was avoiding her. Max felt like she was back to where she started –- the despised Niner on the outside, looking in.

She scurried through the tunnels to her own personal haven, the hot springs. It was always deserted at this time of day – most trannies would rather eat dinner than bathe –- so she could soak to her heart’s content without having to put up with snide remarks and cold, disapproving stares.

The curtain hanging over the doorway was open; a signal that no one was there or whoever it was didn’t mind company. Max hoped it was empty; she didn’t do casual nudity as easily as the others did. 

She strode into the room only to stop dead in her tracks when she caught sight of Alec floating in the pool. Her cheeks flushed red when she realized he was naked. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. She stared hungrily at the sleek lines of his body, devouring him with her eyes. He was a feast. Her tongue darted out to moisten dry lips.

“See something you like?” 

The sound of Alec’s voice shattered the stillness. Max’s eyes flew up his body, past the perfectly sculpted abdomen and muscular shoulders, to his face. There was a mocking light in his eyes and an insolent smirk on his lips.

Max ‘eeped’ and turned her back on Alec, her cheeks burning with shame that she’d been caught staring. “Get dressed,” she ordered in a strangled voice, pointing at the towel waiting by the edge of the pool.

“Why? Afraid you won’t be able to stop yourself from jumping my bones?” Alec leered. He was stung by her reaction. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at him now. It hurt.

“As if!” Max scoffed, her eyes locked on the wall in front of her. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, Maxie.”

“That was before,” she replied tersely.

“I don’t mind.”

“I do!” 

“Why?” Alec asked, clearly amused by her embarrassment. 

Max shrugged helplessly. “We’re not like that anymore.”

Alec quirked one eyebrow in confusion. “So let me get this straight… you’re not allowed to look because we’re not together?”

Max nodded firmly. Alec laughed; his voice thick and rich, like melted chocolate. Max shivered. Part of her longed to wrap that honeyed voice around herself.

“But you saw me _before_ we got together,” he said slyly. “Don’t you remember, Maxie?”

Oh, but she did. She remembered her fist pounding on a dark wood door. A sudden cloud of steam that filled the hallway, caressing her face. And Alec, close enough to touch, wearing only a smirk and a blue towel.

That image haunted her for weeks, popping into her head at the most inappropriate moments. She’d seen more of Alec in that one glimpse than she ever had of Logan in their two years of pseudo-dating. It had done more for her too, than any of the tender kisses she’d received from Logan.

She heard the sound of sloshing water as Alec hoisted himself out of the pool. There was a rustle of fabric. She thought it was safe to turn around.

It wasn’t.

The memory was now a reality. Alec stood in front of her in nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. Steam from the hot springs rose lazily in the air behind him. Max swallowed hard. She could see the concave dip below his hipbones and the trail of honey blond hair leading down from his navel. Max jerked her eyes up above his waist. Water beaded on his skin and dripped from his wet hair. Her eyes unfocussed as she followed one drop as it slide down his neck, along his collarbone, and down his chest and abdomen to vanish beneath the edge of the towel. It was easier than meeting his eyes.

Alec flexed his abdominal muscles. He chuckled when Max’s heart rate sped up. “You like that, don’t ya, Maxie? Staring at half-naked boys. Such a little pervert,” he teased.

Embarrassed, she blushed and dropped her eyes. “Oh god, no!!” she mumbled. “Look, I didn’t know you were in here. And I didn’t come to… perv at you, or whatever you think. So I’m just gonna leave now.” 

Max gestured vaguely in the direction of the door. Alec prowled towards her; muscles bunching and flexing beneath silken skin as he moved. Max gulped and took a big step back. 

Later, Alec wouldn’t be able to say why he reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving. He only knew he didn’t want her to go.

Max glanced down at the hand on her arm. It trembled faintly. He was shaking. Knowing he was nervous too made her feel better somehow. She turned her gaze back to his face. His normally bright eyes were dull and lifeless. ‘ _He looks tired,_ ’ she thought. The tight band around her heart eased a fraction. Impulsively she stepped forward, invading his space. “Alec?” she said softly.

Alec looked at Max for the first time in days. Her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. ‘ _She hasn’t been sleeping,_ ’ he realized. The harshness faded from his gaze. “Max,” he whispered.

Max licked her lips. Her heartbeat sped up. “Yeah?” 

“Can we… talk?” he asked.

“Sure,” Max nodded.

She stared up at him, unable to look away, entranced by the spark of desire that burned bright in his eyes. She knew if she looked in a mirror that same hunger would be reflected in her own eyes. Her mind knew it was wrong; her body didn’t care. She tilted her head up a fraction, just as Alec lowered his. They swayed on the verge of a kiss, eyes locked. Something dark and hungry passed between them. It made Max shiver.

Suddenly it was as if a starting pistol went off. Their mouths smashed together, lips and teeth and tongues colliding in a brutal kiss. Each struggled for dominance; struggled to punish the other for the recent drought.

Hands explored bodies, frenzied and impatient to touch what had been denied. Alec laid siege to Max’s mouth, slipping his tongue past the barrier of her lips. He delved inside her mouth, his tongue mimicking what he intended to do with other body parts. Max nipped his lower lip between her teeth, making him growl softly. She smiled coyly at him and did it again. 

Desperate to feel his mate’s skin, Alec ripped Max’s tight black top off her and tossed it aside. He needed to claim her; make her his again. Max gasped at the feral look in his eye. Her womb clenched and tightened in anticipation of what was to come. She needed him inside her. She fumbled with her bra clasp, arousal making her fingers clumsy and stiff. Finally she managed to yank it off. She pressed her body to his with a moan, her bare breasts flush against his naked chest.

He reached for the clasp of her jeans. Popping it open, he yanked them down the curve of her hips. A little shimmy and the jeans slid down her legs, only to become trapped at her ankles by her boots. Max huffed in frustration and tried to toe her boots off but the laces were tied to tightly. Alec gracefully sank to his knees at her feet. Max smiled at him and rested her hands on his shoulders for balance. He quickly removed her boots and helped her step out of her jeans.

He couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to her mound, still covered in silky black lace. Hooking his fingers in the sides of her thong, he pulled it down and off, baring her neatly trimmed curls to his lustful gaze. Sliding a finger along her opening, he found her wet and ready for him. She purred appreciatively and widened her stance, silently begging those talented fingers to delve deeper. He leered up at her and made a show of sucking her juices from his finger. Max just arched one eyebrow and stared pointedly at the prominent bulge beneath his towel. 

Alec grinned and shrugged. He flicked her nubbin with the tip of a finger, making her gasp. Her hips jerked helplessly. Chuckling, he rose to his feet. She pouted and tugged at the towel still wrapped around his waist. It fluttered to the ground. He pulled her into his arms, holding her snug against him, one hand splayed across the small of her back, the other cupping the back of her head. She was trapped in the circle of his arms. Max sighed happily at his possessive hold and nuzzled his chest. Breathing deeply, she took in his scent, locking it in her lungs.

The estranged lovers locked eyes for a long moment. Neither broke the silence; instinctively knowing the mood was too fragile for words. Swooping down, Alec took her mouth in a bruising kiss. Max raked her hands through his hair. She tugged on the silky strands at the nape of his neck, tilting his head to the side and forcing his mouth harder against hers. 

They separated, breathless and gasping for air; hearts pounding madly in their chests. “Alec,” she whispered. She licked her lips. She could taste him on her skin. Hazel eyes darkened. He stared, enamoured of that small pink tongue gliding across kiss-swollen lips.

Pouncing, he lifted her off her feet and slammed her up against the nearest rock wall. It was rough against her bare skin. She gasped. He held her there almost effortlessly; his strong hands easily supporting her slight weight. One brow arched upward in a challenge. Slipping a hand between their bodies, she took his hard cock in her small hand and guided him inside her core. The growl he emitted when he slid home made her nerves tingle.

He started to pump his hips, steady and shallow at first to give her time to accommodate to his girth. “More,” she whimpered, scratching her nails down his back. “Harder.” 

Grunting agreement, he gladly picked up the pace, thrusting hard and deep into her willing body. She scrabbled for purchase but there was none. At his mercy, she could only cling to him as he pounded her into the wall. 

Smirking wickedly, she reached behind her and shoved hard, pushing them away from the wall. He staggered, overbalanced, and lost his footing. They tumbled backwards, hitting the floor hard with her on top. The impact jolted the air from his lungs. The new angle forced his cock deeper, making them both gasp. Bracing her hands on his chest, she rose up until only the purple cockhead remained nestled inside her folds and then slammed herself down his turgid length. He let out a hoarse cry, his hips bucking reflexively. Tossing her head back, she began to ride him in earnest.

Alec licked his lips. Max was glorious in the dim light -– olive skin flushed, hair wild, eyes wide and dark as obsidian. He was losing himself in her again but couldn’t bring himself to care. He was lost a long time ago. Gripping her hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, he helped guide her movements, thrusting up to meet her every time she sank down on him.

Max ducked her head and claimed Alec’s mouth in a hungry kiss. Her full breasts flattened against his chest; pebbled nipples rubbing deliciously across his skin. Nibbling along his jaw and down his neck, she left a trail of tiny stinging kisses. He arched his neck and tilted his head to the side, giving her better access to his vulnerable throat. She laughed and nipped the fragile skin above his pulse point hard enough to leave a mark. Growling low, he abruptly reversed their positions, pinning her beneath him. Grabbing one leg behind the knee, he pushed it towards her chest, changing the angle of his thrusts and letting him sink even deeper into her core. He hit that spot inside her on every thrust. Max moaned and gasped her pleasure, arching her hips and pushing back to meet each thrust. 

He pounded into her savagely, over and over, using all his transgenic strength. She took everything he had to give and matched it. She locked her long legs around the small of his back hard enough to crack a human’s ribs. Her nails scratched him from shoulders to ass, leaving trails of fire down his back. The pain goaded him on, his hips slamming into hers hard and fast. Hands roamed while mouths stole quick kisses between gasps.

It was hard and frantic. It was about passion and need and loneliness and anger. Love was there too, but it was buried under darker emotions.

She came first with a scream that echoed off the rock walls. He rode out her climax, hips churning as her inner muscles milked his cock. He arched against her, bucking and shuddering as he came, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, her name on his lips in a strangled yell. Grinding himself between her legs, he continued to pump as he spent the last of his seed, pushing his cum deep inside her body, and then he collapsed on top of her, his face buried in the crook of her neck. Panting heavily, he rolled to one side to keep from crushing her with his weight.

Normally Max would snuggle up to him in the afterglow; her head on his chest, one leg thrown across his and a possessive arm around his waist. Alec would hold her tenderly; press kisses to the crown of her head or play with a strand of her hair.

Not today.

The awkwardness between them was almost palpable. They lay side by side on the hard ground. There were no tender touches; no kisses; no whispered endearments. The only sounds in the room were the two of them trying to catch their breath. 

Max could feel his eyes on her. It made her stomach squirm. Bolting to her feet, she turned her back to Alec and got dressed as quickly as she could. She refused to look at him, afraid he would see the emotions she was trying so desperately to hide. Only when she couldn’t put the moment off any longer did she turn to look at him.

He stood there wearing only a towel, proud and unashamed. Clothes dangled from one hand and boots from the other, arms spread to either side of his body so as not to block her view. His lips curved into a wicked grin. “This looks familiar. Isn’t this how we started?” He wiggled his brows and gestured between them with the hand that held his boots.

She could have stepped into those open arms. She didn’t. Max turned her head away. If she looked at him for another second, she would break. “This was a mistake,” she whispered.

“I knew you were gonna say that,” Alec complained bitterly. Max had used him and tossed him aside. Again. He closed his eyes and shook his head, feeling disgusted with himself. ‘ _When am I gonna learn?_ ’ 

Max winced. She saw the pain and confusion swimming in his eyes and it ripped into her. It also made her mad. It was _his_ fault they were both hurting. She couldn’t afford to forget that. 

Scowling, Alec gave up and headed for the exit. Max’s eyes widened when she realized he intended to walk out there wearing only a towel. “Wait! Alec!” she protested loudly. “You can’t go out there like that. Someone might see you.”

“Modesty is a human emotion, Max.” Alec glanced coyly at his nearly-naked body and smirked. “And I got nothing to hide.”

It wasn’t modesty that made her want him fully clothed. It was jealousy. He was hers. No one but her should get to see him naked. 

“Guilt is a human emotion too, but apparently you don’t feel that either,” Max retorted snidely. She desperately needed to put some distance between them. What just happened between them was a mistake; one she can’t repeat. It was wrong; no matter how right it felt.

Alec was suddenly furious. Why was he in the wrong just because he disagreed with her? “Who made you judge and jury?” he snarled. “Why do you get to decide what’s right and what’s wrong? What’s so special about you?”

Max raised her chin and stared at him, a scornful look on her face. “It’s called morals. Most people –- decent people! –- have them.”

“Like you’re any better than me,” he said, his face twisted into an ugly sneer. “You’ve killed people too.”

Max sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes wide in shock. “Not in cold blood!” she countered. “Not without a damn good reason.”

Alec cocked a sceptical eyebrow. “Oh. I see. So you had a _reason_ to chase that convict through the woods outside Manticore and rip him apart with your bare hands.” Max went bone white. “Oh yeah,” he continued, “we heard all about it. TAC officers didn’t know whether to be proud or terrified.”

“Like you didn’t do the same thing! I know you had the same training missions so don’t even try to tell me you didn’t!” Max sputtered. She was almost incoherent with rage. He knew she still had nightmares about that day. How dare he use it against her?

Alec went for the kill. He couldn’t help himself; not after years of being tarnished with Ben’s crimes. As angry as he was, he didn’t care who he hurt. “ _My_ squad never ripped the target’s teeth out for some kind of twisted pagan sacrifice. _My_ squad never displayed the body like it was some kind of sick trophy. _You_ did that. Of your own free will. And _that_ is the difference between us.”

“Stop it!” Max hissed. “Stop it!! This isn’t about me!” Her hands clenched into fists so tightly her nails bit into her palms. She wanted to hit him, over and over until he shut the hell up. She wanted to make him take it back. But mostly, she wanted it to not be true. 

“Oh, that’s right. It’s about me and what a horrible killer I am. God forbid we actually talk about _your_ crimes. Because you’re perfect, aren’t you, Maxie?” Alec’s voice oozed sarcasm.

“Shut up!” Max cried. “Shut. Up!!”

“Gladly.” Alec pushed past her and stalked out of the room.

Max slumped against the nearest wall. All the fight drained out of her, leaving her weak and shaky. Her legs refused to hold her weight and she slid clumsily to the ground. Burying her face in her hands, she wept; hot bitter tears that brought no relief.

 


	8. Outed

The morning meeting was just minutes away from starting when Alec arrived at the conference room. Snippets of conversation drifted out through the open entrance. Sounds echoed strangely in the caverns, so that some words were crystal clear while others were dim and blurred. Alec purposefully tuned them all out. If they were gossiping about the break up, he didn’t want to know about it.

His shoulders curled inwards and his naturally jaunty pace slowed the closer he got to the doors. Another day, another strategy session. Another opportunity for Max to rub his nose in it, like a dog that did its business on the carpet.

Not that he didn’t deserve her scorn, after some of the things he said to her. 

Alec sighed and tried to scrub some life back into his face. He felt weary to the bone. He desperately wished he could be selfish and just walk away from it all – crawl back into his (borrowed, lumpy) bed, pull the covers over his head and tell the world to go screw itself rather than him for a change. The last thing he wanted was to get into it with Max again since his wounds were still bleeding from their last go round. 

But Alec was no quitter; Manticore could attest to that. He had responsibilities, people who counted on him, and he refused to let Max chase him away. 

Donning a genial half-smile as if it were armour, Alec strode confidently into the conference room. It buzzed with half a dozen random conversations that faltered as he passed by, only to pick up again as he moved on. Neatly sidestepping his friends, he headed for the snack table and poured himself a coffee he didn’t want, adding spoonful after spoonful of sugar just to give himself something to do with his hands. He kept his back to the room, not wanting to see the sympathy in their eyes. He was even less interested in hearing their well-meant platitudes about being ‘better off without her.’

There were times when he missed the silence of Manticore.

A light tap on his shoulder intruded on his brooding. Alec found a familiar blue-eyed blonde standing at his back. “Want some coffee with that sugar?” she chirped, far too cheerfully. 

Alec stifled a groan. It was too early in the morning for a verbal smack down from Max’s outspoken big sister. Syl had her head tilted to one side and was examining him closely. He suppressed the urge to squirm. He felt like a bug under a microscope, and a particularly nasty one at that, if the displeasure on her face was anything to go by. 

He thought they were friends –- a family of sorts. Apparently he was wrong.

That hurt more than he cared to admit.

Syl pursed her lips in disapproval. Alec was paler than normal, his golden skin grey and washed out. Dark circles lay like bruises beneath dull and lifeless eyes. She hated seeing him so beaten down. “You look like crap,” she announced bluntly. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“No, but that’s just what a scum-sucking rat bastard like me deserves, right?” Alec bit back a growl. He didn’t need an intervention. Not from her. 

Syl laid a hand on his arm as he brushed by. Her grip was light enough not to keep him there if he wanted to leave, which was probably why he didn’t. 

“Don’t do that,” she said softly. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” 

The lack of heat in her tone caught Alec’s attention. He raised his bowed head and faced the diminutive blonde straight on. What he saw surprised him. There was no condemnation in her bright blue eyes. In fact, she seemed almost… apologetic. He frowned in confusion.

“I love my baby sister dearly,” Syl said, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t see her faults. She can be a little… harsh and judgemental at times.”

“A little?” Alec scoffed. The words were out before he could stop them. He winced. The last thing he wanted was to give her more reasons to put him in his place. “Sorry.”

Syl ignored his chagrin. “Max isn’t perfect. She’s made her share of mistakes. She just makes herself forget. It’s the only way she can deal, y’know.”

Alec gaped at Syl. He had braced himself for insults and accusations, not for a member of Max’s notoriously close-knit family to take his side in the train wreck that was their relationship. “So… you’re not gonna rip my balls off and feed them to me for making her cry?” he asked warily.

“Nuh uh,” Syl said, pulling a face at that mental image, “But I’d stay away from Jondy for a while if I were you. She’s not your biggest fan.”

“Duly noted.” Undone by the unexpected show of support, Alec shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He avoided her gaze, his eyes darting restlessly around the room, never landing long anywhere, while his fingers drummed against the coffee mug, making the hot liquid slosh dangerously close to the rim.

Syl pulled the coffee mug from his hand before he could spill it. “That’s it, no more caffeine for you,” she scolded gently, “You’re jittery enough as it is.”

Alec shrugged but let her have her way, not quite sure how to take her concern, having had so little experience with kindness in his existence.

Syl’s smile was soft and genuine. She admired Alec. It wasn’t easy to stand by the strength of your convictions, especially when it cost you the one thing that mattered most to you. Impulsively she stepped up and gave him a hug.

Alec was caught off guard for the second time in less than five minutes. His hands fluttered at his side like broken birds. Syl rubbed circles on his back, slowly gentling him. Letting out a choked sigh, he wrapped his strong arms around her and settled into the comfort she offered freely. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed in her scent and held it in his lungs. It was comforting and familiar. Slowly his tense muscles relaxed. 

Syl squeezed hard enough for him to still feel it even after she let go. 

Flustered, Alec looked away. The hug disarmed him, left him feeing exposed and raw and he needed a few seconds to restore his usual composure. “Uhh, not that I’m complaining –- hugs from pretty girls are always a good thing –- but what was that for?”

“I don't know ,” Syl shrugged, “I guess you just looked like you could use a hug.” Taking pity on him she explained, “I had this foster mom once who was a big believer in hugs. She was always hugging us. It was… nice. Even when everything was total crap, it made things better, y’know.”

Alec shrugged, unable to relate but desperately wishing he could. “Not really, no. But I’ll take your word for it.” Uncomfortable at the emotional sharing they seemed to be doing, Alec retreated into his usual snark. “I think you just can’t keep your hands off me. Admit it, you’re hot for me,” he teased. 

“Oh please,” Syl rolled her eyes. She was more than happy to trade quips, anything to put the sparkle back in his eyes. 

“You want me,” Alec insisted with a sly smirk. 

“Pfft. You’re barely even housebroken. I bet you leave wet towels on the bathroom floor,” Syl accused with a mock glare.

“I got better things to do when I’m naked than play Stepford wife.” Alec swept her body from head to toe with an outrageous leer. 

“I so don’t need to hear about your kinky sex life. Pervert.” Syl smacked his arm. The corner of her mouth twitched up into a grin, proving her ire was just a front.

“Why does every woman in my life feel the need to hit me?” he complained, rubbing the bruise.

“Sexy wounds,” Syl said in mock seriousness. Off Alec’s baffled look, she explained, “Owies make you look sexy.”

Alec shuddered. “You are a very disturbed woman.”

Syl promptly smacked him again. 

“Hey! Stop that! Or at least don’t hit the same spot twice,” he pouted. 

Her only answer was to stick her tongue out at him.

 

* * *

 

Max lurked in the hallway outside the conference room, torn between walking in and walking away. She had been avoiding Alec since their encounter in the hot springs. The scabs from their bitter fight were too fresh to tolerate reopening. She couldn’t bear to go another round. The things he said to her…

‘ _You said some pretty nasty things too_ ,’ her conscience prodded. 

Max choked back a bitter laugh. When had it all gone so wrong? How had they gone from saying ‘I love you’ to screaming insults at one another? 

The urge to run away was strong, but she wasn’t about to cede control of Freak Nation to him and his band of mercenary killers. Not without a fight. Someone had to rein in the dogs of war. Before his arrogance got them all killed; including him.

That Alec had gone from mate to enemy combatant made her ache down to her bones. 

The fact that most of the transgenic nation agreed with him bewildered her.

‘ _Suck it up, soldier,_ ’ she ordered herself firmly. ‘ _Never let them see you bleed._ ’

Blowing out a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and marched through the door into the conference room like she owned it. And promptly stopped dead in her tracks when she caught sight of Syl and Alec. Together. Laughing and chatting like the best of friends. 

They were standing close -– ‘ _too close!_ ’ her possessive inner bitch shrieked. There was admiration in Syl’s eyes and warmth in her voice. Alec was actually smiling a genuine smile instead of his typical smirk. 

If she had looked closer, she might have seen the subtle signs of stress and sleeplessness around his eyes and mouth. But blinkered by her own hurt, she only saw him laughing and teasing a woman who wasn’t her.

Jealousy reared its ugly head. He was _hers_! How dare he cheat on her! And with her own sister -– ‘ _that traitorous bitch!_ ’ –- of all people.

Blood boiling, Max was a hairsbreadth away from storming across the room and reminding him who he belonged to when she remembered that she was his _ex_ -girlfriend for a reason. She retreated out of sight, ducking her head to hide her face behind her hair. Blinking furiously, she swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall. She would _not_ give them the satisfaction. ‘ _I don’t care what he does. Or who he does it with,_ ’ she thought contemptuously. ‘ _She can have him._ ’ 

Flinging her hair over her shoulder with an arrogant toss of her head, she pushed her way through the crowd of transgenics and took her seat at the head of the table, head held high as if her world hadn’t crashed into ruins around her. Again.

Alec watched Max enter the room from the corner of his eye. He willed her to look his way. His eyes held all the regret and remorse he felt for their estrangement that he didn’t know how to put into words. ‘ _Look at me, Max. Just look at me. This is me saying I’m sorry for hurting you. So damn sorry._ ’

But Max didn’t even deign to glance in his direction. Biting back a snarl, he turned his back on her and busied himself with pouring another cup of coffee. He slammed his mental walls up, hiding his hurt behind a mask of carefree indifference. 

Syl caught the jealous glances Max threw like daggers at her. ‘ _Oh Maxie…_ ’ she smiled slyly to herself, ‘ _Who do you think you’re fooling? You’re not half as indifferent as you like to pretend._ ’ Feeling naughty, she reached out and fussed with the back of Alec’s collar, tugging it flat. She let her hand linger there just a shade too long, burning the image of her with her arms around him into Max’s fevered brain. ‘ _Whatcha gonna do about it, baby sis?_ ’

Max’s patience -– never very plentiful to begin with -– snapped. “Bip bip bip, people!” she snarled. “Let’s get this party started.”

Syl sighed heavily. ‘ _Sheesh. What’s it gonna take to pull your head out of your ass, Maxie?_ ’ 

Alec shot her a look, one eyebrow arched in a silent question. She shook her head. Plucking the second coffee mug out of his hand -– and ignoring his half-hearted protests at its loss –- she dragged him to the head of the table. 

Alec nearly balked when Syl pushed him towards the empty seat next to Max but decided it wasn’t worth making a scene. He waited to see how his girl would react.

Max’s eyes darkened. She considered getting up and moving, or better yet ordering Alec to change seats, but decided not to give him the ammunition. ‘ _It’s not like I care where he sits,_ ’ Max insisted. ‘ _I don’t. He’s nothing to me._ ’ She ignored the snickering at the back of her mind. 

Alec pouted, disappointed by Max’s non-reaction. Clearly she didn’t care where he sat; she wouldn’t even look at him. Determined to show how much he wasn’t bothered by her indifference, Alec sprawled in his chair, stretching his legs out and taking up more space than any one person needed, even an alpha male like him. His knee pressed against Max’s.

Max sniffed delicately and shifted her chair over. This put her in closer proximity to Dix, who sat on her other side. Taking note of her clenched fists, he swallowed hard and edged closer to Mole, who just grunted.

Syl grinned to herself. She should have brought some popcorn. This was better than pre-Pulse daytime TV.

“So what’s on today’s agenda?” Max asked in a bored tone. She inspected her manicure. Picking at her nail polish gave her an excuse not to watch the faces around the table avoid meeting her gaze. 

Dix cleared his throat and shuffled his papers nervously. “Uh, I’ve been cross-referencing cell phone records from known Familiars. I’m trying to compile a list of likely cult members--”

The sound of Max’s fist slamming into the table echoed around the chamber. “We. Are. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Again!” she hissed, incensed. “Is that clear, soldier?”

Dix raised his hands. “Wait! Max please, just hear me out… You won’t believe whose name is at the top of the list.”

“I don’t care! Zip it,” Max ordered.

“Don’t you shut him down!” Mole snarled, jabbing his cigar at her like he could eviscerate her with it. “You’re out of line, princess. You’re not Tactical Commander; Alec is. It’s _his_ call. So shut it and let the boy speak.” 

“Why bother?” Max questioned with asperity. “We’re done targeting Familiars.” 

All around the table, transgenics muttered protests and shifted in their seats. Syl grimaced. Likening their little drama to daytime TV was an apt description. Max’s churlish attitude wasn’t helping keep her win friends and influence people. It looked like the room was about to stage a revolt. Even gentle Joshua looked annoyed with the brunette. ‘ _How did I get stuck playing peacekeeper?_ ’ she bemoaned.

“Max… it doesn’t cost you anything to listen,” Syl cajoled. “Gather the Intel, then make the call. Isn’t that what Deck taught us?”

“Lydecker was a psycho!” Max protested.

“True... But you have to admit, the man knew his trade,” Syl countered.

Max glanced around the table at the sea of unfriendly faces. Judging by their dark expressions, she was outnumbered. She realized with dismay that if she pushed any harder on this, she would lose what little authority she still had. It baffled her. ‘ _When did they stop listening to me?_ ’ she wondered. She had tried so hard to lead by example; to show them all what the humans would expect of them.

‘ _Recognize when to advance and when to dig in_ ,’ Lydecker’s gruff voice echoed from her childhood, ‘ _It could be the difference between victory and defeat._ ’

Max gave in with as much grace as she could muster –- which admittedly wasn’t much. “Alright, alright. So who’s the big bad wolf?”

Alec felt a flash of gratitude that he quickly stifled. Mole eyed her with suspicion, not trusting her sudden capitulation. Dix swallowed hard and got straight to the point, “Senator McKinley.”

Alec coughed and sat up straight. “Whoa. Back up, sparky. Senator McKinley, head of the Congressional hearing on transgenics?” he asked in surprise. “That Senator McKinley?”

“Uh huh,” Dix nodded.

“Dude, why are you so surprised?” Mole asked rhetorically. “Politicians are always dirty. So this one’s just a little dirtier than most.” 

“You better be sure Dix,” Alec warned, “Or this could get ugly.”

“As opposed to all the other rotting corpses you’ve put in the ground,” Max griped, “Because that’s not ugly at all.”

Her voice was pitched just low enough to ignore. Alec gritted his teeth and signalled to Dix to continue. 

“I’m sure. Well… mostly sure,” the pale nomaly qualified. “He’s received phone calls from every confirmed cultist on our list. And none of them –- except for our boy Ames White -– had a legitimate reason to have the Senator’s private cell phone number. So either he’s one of them or he’s in bed with them.”

“Or maybe he’s innocent and they’re playing him. Ever think of that?” Max objected.

“We need to know for sure. Finn, Reina…” Alec signalled his two best covert operatives, “I want you to handle this personally. Snoop his files, his hard drive, his staff… Smoke him out. Find out just how deep in he is.”

“Are we authorized to eliminate the threat, sir?” Reina asked.

“No. Recon only,” Alec ordered. _For now_ was unsaid but clearly implied.

“Yes sir!” the two soldiers barked in unison.

“Why don’t you just off him too?” Max asked snidely, unable to resist goading Alec. “A knife in the back and bam! Problem solved.”

“Because he’s more useful to us alive,” Alec retorted. “This isn’t a Romero flick. A dead man can’t lead us back to their headquarters. C’mon Maxie, I know it’s a stretch but try to remember your training.” 

“So we can do what…” Max protested, “Launch an unprovoked attack?” 

“Well, yeah,” Mole said in annoyance. “Catch ‘em with their pants down so they can’t mount a credible defence.”

Max held on hard to her fraying temper. “You seem to have missed the point that killing people is wrong!” 

Mole moved his hand like a sock puppet. “Blah blah woof woof.” That raised a few quiet laughs. 

Max quickly abandoned that line of reasoning. It hadn’t convinced Joshua or Syl, and truthfully, how could she expect them to understand something she struggled with herself? Alec was right when he labelled her a hypocrite. She had killed too; not just at Manticore but even after she got out in the world. And it hadn’t bothered her conscience all that much… until she saw Logan’s reaction to the bodies and learned how wrong she was. 

“Since you obviously have no concept of morality, think about this…” Max said waspishly, “I’m the one that has to convince the public we’re not a threat. How am I supposed to do that if we’re going around whacking random people! When they learn what you’ve done…” Guilt and shame buzzed through her at the thought of trying to explain this to Logan or Detective Clemente –- both of them good men with uncompromising morals. 

They would never understand.

“Gee, I dunno… You could always point out they were evil sons of bitches,” Mole offered facetiously. He eyed the cherry on his cigar, only half his attention on the conversation.

“That hardly exonerates us,” Max said impatiently. She struggled to put her dilemma in words these hardened soldiers could understand. “As far as the government will be concerned, we’ve all gone rogue. They won’t trust us to stop at the cult. They’ll be too afraid of us to trust us. And then they’ll hit us with everything they have.”

Her imagination painted bleak pictures of a mob coming for Alec. She shuddered. Max had a very healthy fear of mobs. As a child she lived through the rioting after the Pulse hit. As an adult she watched a gang of Ordinaries take down Biggs; an X5 soldier at the top of his game. 

Alec watched Max closely. ‘ _Ahhh. It’s not the killing,_ ’ he guessed shrewdly, ‘ _Not really. It’s the consequences._ ’ He shrugged dismissively. Either way, he was still guilty and she was still pissed.

Max wrenched her attention back to the conversation. “Norms don’t trust us as it is,” Mole was pointing out rather nonchalantly. Having very little respect for Ordinaries, he was supremely unconcerned about how they viewed transgenics.

“So let’s not give them any more ammo!” she protested. “Every unsanctioned kill makes it just a little bit harder to come back from that.” 

And that was really what she found so unpalatable –- the fact that these kills were premeditated assassinations. So like something Manticore would have done. With every hit, transgenics were devolving back into what Manticore made them to be and it turned her stomach.

“Not if we have Intel that proves the cult is a threat,” Alec challenged. 

Max floundered at that. Even she had to admit that it would put a different (almost justifiable) spin on the situation. She licked suddenly dry lips. “Do you?”

Alec hesitated. It was tempting to lie to her, but pragmatism kept him honest. “Not yet,” he admitted. “But that’s why Finn and Reina are gonna pay McKinley a little house call.”

Max wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or disappointment at that. “So you’ve got nothing that justifies sending two X5s after a US Senator.” She shook her head. “No. No way. They’re not going in. I’m calling it off.”

Mole bristled. He opened his mouth, ready to deliver a caustic tirade at her temerity. Alec held him back with a gesture. “What are you afraid of Maxie?” he taunted. “You’re the one who is convinced the cult is impotent. Worried we might find something that says otherwise?”

Max wasn’t the kind of girl to back down from a challenge and Alec knew it. Worse, Max knew that he was doing it on purpose but she still couldn’t resist. She knew she was right. She had to be; the alternative was… unthinkable. “Fine. We’ll see who’s right.” She stared down Finn and Reina. “This is a fact finding mission _only_. That’s non-negotiable. Do you understand me?”

The hesitation lasted just long enough to be disrespectful. “Yeah, we’re clear,” Reina said.

Max bit back a growl of frustration. When did she become so powerless around here?

Whipping her head around, she drilled Alec with a cold stare. “Don’t even think about issuing a kill order,” she warned him, fear of the possible repercussions making her voice hard. “We are _not_ adding to the body count without solid proof that he’s a real threat.”

“What did I just say?” Alec demanded rhetorically. “If you think I got a problem with doing surveillance first then you don’t know me.”

“Obviously I don’t.”

Her disdain cut to the bone, leaving him raw and flayed. “We’re done here,” Alec snarled and stormed out of the meeting. 

The rest of the council quickly followed suit, leaving Max sitting alone at an empty table.

 

* * *

 

The bar reeked of stale beer, dope, and lust. Images of rally cars smashing and crashing played on endless loops on several big screen TVs. The stereo system was cranked, pre-Pulse music blaring at an ear-splitting volume, the bass heavy enough to shake the walls and make his teeth vibrate in his skull. A lanky, grungy, shaggy-haired messenger was doing bike tricks on top of the bar while a jeering crowd tossed both money and insults at him. 

Detective Clemente sighed and shook his head. There was a time he’d have been laying down cheddar too. Now he just wanted to buy the kid a helmet before he fell off the bar and cracked his skull open. He groaned. ‘ _When did I get so old?_ ’ 

This was _not_ his idea of a good time. He didn’t want to be here. This wasn’t his fight.

On the other hand, there was a certain undeniable satisfaction to be had in sticking it to the supposedly ‘master race’.

The detective pushed and shoved his way through the mass of sweaty bodies bumping and grinding on the dance floor, grimacing as his dress shoes stuck to the sticky floor. The girl he was here to find was at the back. She wore a shiny blue halter top, a pair of tight leather pants that hung low on her hips and hugged her curves, and a pair of strappy black sandals with 4 inch heels. Her riotous curls were held back from her face by a sparkly gold scarf, the fringed ends trailing down to brush the dip of her lower back. She was leaning against the railing that lined the upper level and exchanging come-fuck-me stares with someone at the bar. A half-empty beer glass was dangling loosely from one hand. There was a pitcher of beer and several more glasses on the table next to her.

“Cynthia McEachin?” He had to lean in close to be heard over the pounding music. Her hair smelled like apples. He wondered where she found scented shampoo in this economy. 

One sculpted eyebrow arched. She pressed the tip of a perfectly manicured nail into his chest and moved him back a foot. “That’s Original Cindy to you. She don’t answer to nothin’ else.”

“Original Cindy?” he parroted. She nodded. He sighed. What was wrong with Cynthia? It was a perfectly good, solid name. “Okay. That’s fine. Your prerogative.” He flashed his badge. “I’m Detective Ramon Clemente.”

She gave him a long measuring look. Clearly less than impressed, she turned her attention back to the bar. “Original Cindy knows who you are. You the fool that used me and my homies for target practice at Jam Pony last spring.”

“That SWAT team wasn’t mine,” Detective Clemente said evenly, “a fact you are well aware of. I did my best to keep you and the other hostages safe.”

“Whateva,” Original Cindy sniffed disdainfully. 

“I recognize you too. You ‘borrowed’ one of those SWAT uniforms, stole an ambulance, and helped your friends escape.”

Cindy stood up straight. She eyed Clemente warily. “You high or sumthin’? I ain’t never.”

He waved off her excuses. “I’m not here about that. You and I both know if I could arrest you for that stunt I’d have done it months ago.”

“Then what’re you wastin’ my time for?”

“I need to talk to Max.”

Cindy’s stomach dropped out. She lowered her voice, hoping to disguise how badly her nerves quavered. “Mah boo ain’t here and you damn well know it.”

“But you know where she is,” Clemente persisted. “Or how to reach her.”

Original Cindy stuck her hand in Clemente’s face, palm out like she was directing traffic. She prayed he didn’t notice how sweaty her hands suddenly were. “Do _not_ be sayin’ what I think you sayin’, fool. Original Cindy does _not_ rat out her peeps.” 

If she dialled up the attitude and the slang a little, who could blame her? Max’s freedom might depend on her ability to bluff her way out of this.

“Easy now,” he said placatingly, hands raised in surrender. “I’m not asking you to. All I want is for you to pass on a message. Tell Max someone needs to talk to her.” Clemente held out a piece of paper with a 14 digit phone number on it. No name; just a neatly written phone number.

Original Cindy eyed it suspiciously, much like one would a viper preparing to strike. “‘Bout what?”

Clemente hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. He settled for telling a small part of the truth. “The SWAT team Agent White sent into Jam Pony.”

“Oh yeah? They lookin’ for a second helpin’ ah whoop ass? Cuz Original Cindy is always happy to oblige.”

“I doubt you could. I doubt any of us could.” Subtle emphasis on the word ‘us’. Original Cindy picked up the hidden message. Clemente caught the sudden flash of understanding on her face before she hid it behind a frown. 

“There’s an… ongoing investigation,” he continued. “The agent in charge has some questions for Max. About what really went down that day. And who those guys really work for.”

Cindy’s attitude towards the detective became even more belligerent. “You thinkin’ you gonna use mah boos ta clean up your mess?!? Uh uh. Original Cindy ain’t cool wit’ that.”

Clemente smiled. “You’re loyal. I respect that. It’s not something I see a lot of in my line of work. Look… I’m not trying to make your friends’ lives harder. I’m just a city cop who’s in way over his head. I don’t need this shit.”

“And I’m just a home girl ‘bout ta hook up wit’ a sweet lil chicka til your ugly mug walked in.”

Cindy remained stubbornly unconvinced. Clemente admired her poker face. He also took comfort from the fact she hadn’t stormed off yet.  “Look, just tell Max I passed that CD she gave me to someone who’s looking into it. But he needs to talk to her. He’s got a lot of questions. Oh! And tell Max he’s safe. I checked him out just like she told me to. He doesn’t have the mark.” 

When her eyes widened in understanding, Detective Clemente knew he chose the right contact. 

She forced an eye roll. “Original Cindy ain’t gonna pretend she know what you talkin’ about.”

Clemente suppressed a smile. “You don’t need to. In fact, it’s probably better if you don’t.” Clemente held out the piece of paper. “Just pass on the message. Please. Then you and I can get on with our regularly scheduled lives. It’s up to Max whether she makes the call.”

“I’ll think about it.” She snagged the paper with ill grace and shoved it into her back pocket.

“Thank you.”

“Go home. Original Cindy tryin’ ta get some play and you messin’ her game bad.” 

“Punk assed kids,” the detective muttered as he walked away. “No respect for authority…”

Original Cindy rolled her eyes. In a deliberate attempt to put the strange encounter out of her mind, she sashayed over to the bar and the shorty she had her eye on all night.

 


	9. Spy Games

Detective Clemente’s note burned a hole in Original Cindy’s pocket for two days. It followed her everywhere (despite being safely tucked away in a back of her dresser drawer). It was with her on runs, while beating Sketchy at pool, even during a date with the honey from Crash, which didn’t do her rep any favours. She tossed it in the garbage half a dozen times only to immediately fish it out again. Dread sat in the pit of her stomach like bad seafood.

It might be a trap. 

It might be a potential ally. 

Trap. Ally. Trap. Ally. 

The possibilities made her brain hurt. 

She paced the length of her tiny galley kitchen, staring at the crumpled note where it lay on the counter. Slim brown fingers played with her curls, weaving in and out and around the dark locks in a nervous habit from her childhood that she was never quite able to break. 

What was she supposed to do with it? Pass it on to Max and risk exposing her friends to their enemies? Or burn the damn thing and potentially cheat them out of much needed backup in this fight?

Several times her hand inched towards the phone only to be pulled back sharply. If ‘they’ were watching, calling Max would only lead them straight to her.

Cindy felt like smacking herself upside the head when she finally realized the obvious. There was another option. Surely Logan had a way to render a call untraceable; otherwise the Eyes Only informant net would have been compromised long before now. Feeling immensely reassured, she raided her closet for her best club gear and headed to Crash.

 

* * *

 

 

Her quarry was playing pool against Sketch. As usual he was losing. Badly. Cindy rolled her eyes. Would the boy never learn?

She detoured to the bar and ordered a drink, nervously eyeing the crowd and trying not to be obvious about it. Every single person in the room was the right age and demographic, but that might not mean much. 

The note was making her paranoid. She was jumping at every shadow. 

_‘Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not after you_ ,’ cautioned the paranoia hiding in the back of her head. Strangely enough, the advice was spoken in Mole’s gruff voice. Cindy just shook her head at the weirdness that was her life post-meeting Max.

Slamming back her shot of liquid courage, she thrust out her chest and sauntered over to the pool table, hips swaying seductively. True the girl didn’t swing that way but that didn’t stop Original Cindy from looking. Or pretending to look. Whatever worked, right?

She sidled up to the blonde and wrapped an arm around the slender waist. “Shugga!” she said, her voice slightly shrill and overly enthusiastic. “Damn you lookin’ fine. Where you been, girl?”

Fortunately Asha wasn’t as dumb as her hair colour would suggest. If she was startled by the familiarity of the hug, she quickly covered it. She had been in the game long enough to know when something was up. 

“I’ve been… busy.” Asha ducked her head and looked coyly at Original Cindy from beneath dark lashes. “Why? You miss me?” 

“You know it, shugga. C’mon. Let’s go have some girly time, hmmm. Do some catchin’ up.” 

Sketchy was practically drooling, his jaw hanging open. Cindy suppressed the urge to shut it for him rather violently. Instead she nudged the blonde with her hip, urging her to relocate to somewhere more private and less prone to eavesdropping. 

Predictably, Sketchy immediately fell in line. Cindy nailed him with a look that had all the men within a 10 foot radius cringing. Sketchy gulped and backed away. “I’m just gonna wait right here…” He went to lean against the end of the pool table but miscalculated and fell on his ass. 

Original Cindy sniggered. “You do that, fool.”

Asha let herself be led across the dance floor. Original Cindy’s arm was still locked around her waist. She caught the guys staring, mesmerized by the sight of two hot girls walking arm in arm, and smirked to herself. 

Original Cindy steered them towards the corridor leading to the bathrooms. The only bulb was burned out. Flashing lights from the dance floor cast deep shadows that flickered and shifted, revealing the two girls one second and concealing them from view the next. She nodded sharply to herself, pleased. This would do.

Asha’s smirk widened into an amused grin. Half of Crash saw her sneak off to a dark corner with a lesbian. Guys would be hitting on her for weeks. Yanking her attention back to the present, she turned a speculative look on Original Cindy. The other woman had instinctively chosen the perfect cover and the ideal location to exchange sensitive information. No one could get within earshot without them noticing.

Terrified of being overheard, Cindy ignored the social niceties and leaned in close enough for her breath to stir Asha’s hair. Her palms were sweaty and her chest tight. She was paranoid that someone might be watching or listening in. She absolutely refused to be the one to expose Max. She would _not_ fail her boo. 

“You still talk to Roller Boy?” she asked quietly. 

Asha frowned at the nickname but nodded. Now was not the time to defend Logan. In any case, Original Cindy had legitimate reasons to be annoyed with the hacker, plus it was none of her business. 

“A brother came to see me,” Cindy continued. “Po-po named Ramone. Said he had a message for my boo. Mulder wants to talk to her. Think mebbe he’s got a job for her.”

“She could probably use the cash,” Asha said neutrally. “What’s he like?”

“Dunno. Sounds like a straight up, white bread kinda guy. Ramone said he ain’t into body art.”

“Ahh.” Asha raised an eyebrow but nodded silently. Message received. A million questions crowded her eyes but wisely she didn’t press for details. Whatever Max was mixed up in, it was out of her league and she knew it. “I’ll pass it along.”

“Thanks.” Original Cindy scribbled the phone number Detective Clemente gave her on the other girl’s palm. “Tell Roller Boy he better be sure it’s legit before he calls my best boo or I’ll lay a smack down on his ass.” 

Asha grinned and nodded. “Of course. No worries.”

Impulsively Cindy leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to the blonde’s lips. Smirking at Asha’s expression, she strutted back to the dance floor. “Keep in touch, baby girl,” she called over her shoulder.

Asha leaned back against the wall, fingertips lightly brushing her lips in astonishment. She shook her head and laughed softly, bemused. Who knew Original Cindy was so good at undercover work? She eyed the other girl speculatively, the idea of recruiting her as a courier for the S1W floating through her mind. As she watched, Original Cindy smacked Sketchy on the head, loudly berating him for putting his eyes where he had no business looking and no, he could _not_  watch her and Asha get busy and if he asked her that one more time she was going to rip out his tongue and beat him with it. 

Asha grinned and shook her head. ‘ _Nah._ ’ The guys wouldn’t last a week with her around.

 

* * *

 

Moving like smoke, two black clad figures deftly scaled the south wall and dropped into the woods that bordered Senator McKinley’s estate. They slid through the trees with scarcely a disturbed leaf, two dark patches barely visible in the deep shadows. 

A fox paused in its nightly hunt, sensing the presence of two, more deadly predators in its territory. It froze and warily raised its head, sharp black snout quivering as it read their scents on the wind. With a flash of its bushy red tail, it disappeared into the undergrowth. 

Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted mournfully.

They crouched on the edge of the manicured lawn behind a low retaining wall. The grass was thick like velvet, trimmed to golf course standards even in the dead of winter. Severely pruned bushes were interspersed with large stone urns that held sprigs of holly and evergreen instead of flowers, in deference to the season. There was even an ornamental pond complete with waterfall in one corner, although it was drained and silent now. The garden would be pretty in the summertime, in a formal, stylized kind of way. 

Both transgenics extended their enhanced senses to the utmost. The grounds were quiet and still. No visible signs of regular patrols by man or dog. X5-739 pinpointed the security cameras and calculated lens angles and sweep times while X5-229 located the best point of entry. She gestured to a wide balcony at the back of the house. The transgenics exchanged amused grins. 

At 739’s signal, they blurred across the lawn and leaped onto the balcony. Working in tandem, 739 disabled the alarm while 229 picked the lock. Their movements were quick and efficient and within seconds they slipped unnoticed into the Senator’s home. The balcony opened onto a sumptuous bedroom; the master suite judging by the personal effects scattered around the room. 739 eased open the interior door and quickly scanned the hallway. It was deserted. 

Their combat boots sank into the luxuriously thick carpet as they crept through the house on kitten feet. Sculptures and curios in brass and marble rested on antique pedestal tables placed at precisely measured intervals down the long hall that bisected the huge mansion. Pausing at the heavy double wooden doors guarding the Senator’s home office, they listened intently for any signs of life in the room. Their luck held -– it was empty. 

A large mahogany desk dominated one half of the room. A sleek black laptop rested precisely in the centre of the desk. Two heavy armchairs in green leather and brass rivets sat with their backs to the windows. A polar bear rug lay on the floor in front of the black marble fireplace. Expensive artwork lined the walls between bookshelves filled with leather bound books that were there mostly for show, as most of the spines had clearly never been cracked open.

There was a dry rustling sound. Turning, 229 came face to fang with one of the cult’s sacred snakes in a large glass terrarium. She wrinkled her nose and shuddered delicately. ‘ _Fugly._ ’

739 tapped on the glass, causing the snake to rear and hiss angrily.

229 slapped him on the back of the head. ‘ _Desist!_ ’ she signalled, hands moving jerkily.

‘What??’ he mouthed. 

She huffed and rolled her eyes. That thing gave her the creeps. Snakes were so… unnatural. She flashbacked to one of her first solo missions -– tracking an arms dealer through the jungles of South America and so intent on her target that she stepped on a poisonous viper. Humiliation and fear had mixed with the venom in her blood. The poison couldn’t kill her but it had hurt like hell, her skin fever-hot and painfully tight. Much of that mission was still a blank hole in her otherwise eidetic memory. She only just managed to keep Psy Ops unaware of the resulting snake phobia. She shuddered, feeling grateful for the thick glass that kept the snake safely penned.

Moving to the desk, she powered up the computer. She could feel the weight of the creature’s cold, unblinking stare as it watched her rifle through its master’s desk. Turning, she stuck her tongue out at it.

739 sniggered to himself. 229 had never shown this side of herself at Manticore and he liked it. For one thing, it made missions a lot more entertaining. He deliberately tapped the glass again, making the snake hiss and spit in impotent rage. 229 gave him the bitch eye and gestured impatiently for him to get on with his duties. 

He rolled his eyes but obligingly located the safe ‘hidden’ behind one of the wall panels. Pressing his ear to the lock, he manipulated the tumblers, his genetically enhanced hearing enabling him to hear the click as they slid home. The manufacturers -– and their clients -– would have been disappointed indeed to know how quickly he cracked it open.

Meanwhile 229 had hacked the Senator’s password and was rummaging through the contents of his hard drive. “Jackpot,” she whispered as runes filled the screen. “Guess who is fluent in ancient Minoan?” Quickly she started burning the files.

“It gets worse. Look at this,” 739 held up a sheaf of papers, “Memos from Dr. Theodore Cross, the biochemist that engineered the virus in the first place. Guess who was invited to observe the original field tests?”

They exchanged grim looks. 

All X5s had served as test subjects when Manticore experimented with new technology, including biochemical agents. They had no more choice in what was done to them than the poor humans who were kidnapped and infected by the cult, but the difference -– and it was a profound one -– was that they were always expected to survive whatever the squints cooked up. 

Both soldiers bent to their assigned tasks with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. 

Half an hour later the data collection was done. 229 pocketed the discs just as 739 finished photographing the incriminating files in the safe. They meticulously rearranged everything back to the way it was when they entered. 229 sent one last assessing glance around the room. Satisfied it was back to its original state, she moved to stand next to the Monet they were liberating from the Senator’s extensive collection. The painting would not only earn Sanctuary a tidy profit, the theft provided a convenient motive to explain the break in. 

739 took up position behind the door and out of the immediate line of sight. They exchanged nods. 229 pulled the painting off the wall, deliberately popping the trip wires connected to the back of the frame. Deep in the bowels of the house, a silent alarm went off.

Kneeling to make a smaller target in case the guards decided to shoot first and ask questions later, 229 quickly cut the canvas loose from the frame. She had just got the painting rolled and into the carry case when two beefy guards barrelled through the door with guns drawn. One of them was bald with a black moustache and goatee while the other had a scar bisecting his cheek from the outer corner of his left eye to his mouth. 

“Freeze!” the one with the shaved head shouted menacingly. “Don’t move. Put your hands where we can see them, nice and slow like.”

229 froze, her eyes anime-wide in a pale face. She raised her hands in surrender. 

The ruse worked. The Senator’s security detail lowered their guard slightly, guns dipping towards the floor. ' _Just a little girl,'_ their expressions clearly said. 

739 promptly snuck up behind his mark and slammed an elbow to the back of his skull.

Baldy’s head snapped forward and he staggered but kept his footing. Spinning, he raised his gun and prepared to fire. 739 disarmed him with a crescent kick and followed through with a roundhouse kick, his steel-toed combat boot connecting with the Familiar’s chin. Swearing, Baldy shook off the blow and countered with a straight punch at the transgenic’s head. 739 ducked and the Familiar punched a hole in the wall instead of his skull. His meaty fist smashed through the wood panelling and sank into the plaster behind up to his elbow.

“Ouch. That’s gotta hurt,” 739 winced in fake sympathy.

Baldy yanked his arm free of the wall, a maniacal grin splitting his face. He ignored the blood dripping down his arm from his shattered knuckles.

“Or not,” 739 grimaced. He shrugged. “I guess that answers that question.” 

229 dived for the ground as Scar fired his gun, spitting bullets into the wall and sending splinters everywhere. She rolled for cover behind one of the bulky armchairs. Ignoring the fact that it was far too heavily for a normal woman of her size to move easily, she shoved it at him. It skidded across the floor and into him, knocking him off balance and sending the gun flying. Scar pushed the chair aside and charged.

229 twisted out of his reach and ducked behind the desk. Grabbing the laptop she lobbed it at him. Scar instinctively put up an arm to protect his face. The computer ricocheted off his arm and hit the floor, cracking the case open. 

“Oops!” 229 said cheekily. “Your boss isn’t gonna be happy with you.” 

Baldy bullrushed his opponent, forcing the smaller man backwards by several feet. 739’s skull connected painfully with the wall behind him. Before he could recover the Familiar grabbed him in a rib-crushing bear hug and lifted him bodily off his feet. 739 grunted in pain. Baldy laughed nastily and squeezed harder, making the X5’s ribs creak under the pressure. 

He didn’t keep the advantage for long, however. Double-tagging Baldy with a head butt to the nose and a knee to the groin, 739 broke free of the Familiar’s hold. Baldy staggered backwards, shaking his head to clear it. Blood dribbled down his face from his broken nose. Baldy swiped at it with his broken hand, which only served to smear the blood across more of his face. 739 pivoted, snatched the heavy brass reading lamp off the desk and slammed him in the side of the head with it. Baldy teetered on his feet then crumpled to the floor unconscious. 

739 smirked at his fallen opponent, looking eerily like his C.O. as he did.

“Nice scar. Is that supposed to make you look tough?” 229 taunted her opponent. “‘Cause I gotta tell ya, it does nothing for your image.” Scar faked to left. 229 countered, keeping the desk between them. “Ever considered plastic surgery?” she asked saucily. 

Scar scowled and lunged for her again. 229 rolled her eyes and once again slipped beyond his reach. She felt ridiculous playing catch-me-if-you-can around the Senator’s desk. In an unexpected move she launched herself across the top of the desk and tackled the burly Familiar around the waist, taking him to the floor. Grabbing him by the hair, she banged his skull into the floor.

Dazed but not out, he managed to roll her under him. She countered and came up on top again, although not for long. They grappled for dominance, rolling across the floor. Scar gained the advantaged when they bumped up against the fireplace, trapping 229 between its bulk and his stocky body. A sharp corner dug painfully into her hip. With an evil smirk twisting his face, Scar locked his hands around the transgenic’s slender throat and started squeezing the life out of her. 

229 calmly held her breath and rabbit punched him hard in the kidneys. He grunted but refused to surrender his hold on her. Eyes snapping angrily, 229 wriggled her lower body, trying to get sufficient leverage with her legs to toss him off.

“Oohh, that’s it baby,” Scar crooned, “wriggle some more.”

Outraged, she clawed him across the eyes, sharp nails drawing blood. “Ugh! Asshole,” she croaked. 

Scar furiously blinked blood out of his stinging eyes. He opened his mouth to retort when suddenly his eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he collapsed, pinning the petite X5 beneath his dead weight. 

739 hefted the heavy brass lamp he’d used to slug the Familiar, now crumpled into something that would likely qualify as modern art. “Would you look at this piece of crap? Two hits and it’s garbage. You’d think the Senator could afford better swag.” He eyed it with distaste.

“Finn! A little help here,” 229 demanded, waving at him from underneath the Familiar's dead weight. 

739 grinned. Dumping the lamp, he helped 229 roll the Familiar onto his back and then offered her a hand up. 

She swatted his hand aside and flipped to her feet. Snagging the bag with the painting in one hand and 739’s sleeve in the other, she dragged him towards the door. “C’mon, before their friends crash the party.”

Backtracking, they jumped off the same balcony they’d entered by and blurred across the lawn, disappearing into the trees like smoke and shadow.

 

* * *

 

Senator McKinley paced the length of the pier. Above his head gulls dipped and wheeled, while beneath his feet the Pacific splashed against the wooden pilings. He was oblivious to his surroundings, ignoring both the view of the sunrise over the ocean and the salt-tang in the air as easily as he ignored the two disgraced bodyguards that stood waiting next to his car.

The big vein in his left temple throbbed. He had much to explain… and _she_ was not known for her understanding nature.

The crunch of tires on gravel heralded her approach. An expensive black sedan pulled alongside his dark blue Mercedes. It was driven by a woman with a pinched face and a severe haircut. A dark gold ring graced her hand -– a snake with a bloodstone in its jaws -– the symbol of her office. The two guards bowed their heads in deference. Pride held the Senator’s head high although he did hasten to open her door.

“Fenos’tol,” he greeted the high priestess as she exited the car regally.

“Fenos’tol,” she replied. She ignored the presence of two guards. They seemed grateful to be overlooked. Brushing past the Senator, she walked to the end of the pier and stared out over the water, her eyes locked on the horizon. “Why have you called me here, Brother McKinley?” Her icy tone implied that his reason had best be very pressing indeed.

“The freaks broke into my house last night,” he complained with a vicious scowl. “They stole my favourite Monet! Filthy beasts!” Whether he was more upset by the loss of his painting or the knowledge that Sandeman’s creatures had been inside his home was unclear.

“Your art collection is well known. It would be a tempting target for any thief,” she pointed out calmly. “What makes you so certain the thieves were transgenics, hmmm?”

“They held off my two best guards,” he said sourly and waved behind him at the men in question. “What else could they be?” He dared to shoot a dirty look in her direction. “If the Council had assigned Phallanx as I requested instead of those--”

“Silence.” She did not raise her voice. She did not need to. “Do not blame others for your own failings. If _you_ had invested in a better security system the thieves would never have gained access to the property in the first place.”

McKinley bit back his retort, conscious of her higher rank. Humility did not come easily for him and the need for it grated on his nerves. Used to taking command, he attempted to take control of the planning and dictate their next move. “We can use this to our advantage. I will issue a press statement immediately--”

“No.”

Irritated by her blunt refusal, the Senator began to argue his point. “Holy One, surely you see how outraged the public will be that those animals would dare target _my_ home. The police--”

“The police are curious by nature. They will investigate everything, not just that which we wish them to investigate.”

“The police are corrupt,” he said contemptuously. “They can be bought.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She shook her head. “We cannot risk exposure. Take the long view, Brother McKinley. Do not risk our destiny on a bribe.”

Having no option, the Senator subsided into silence.

“Targeting you was a bold move. The transgenics were not trained to take unnecessary risks. The theft might be a decoy,” she mused aloud. “Is anything else missing?”

“No.” The Senator began to marshal his excuses. “As you said, I am known for my art collection. It may be all they were after. They are dirty thieves after all.”

She laughed. It made even his jaded skin crawl. “Where was the painting hanging?”

“In my office.”

One brow arched. “You have other more expensive paintings, do you not?” He nodded reluctantly. “Are they hanging in your office too?”

“No,” he ground out.

“Was your computer tampered with?”

“…We can’t be sure. It was damaged during their escape.”

“Was there anything incriminating on it?”

With palpable reluctance, the Senator admitted the truth. “I had several memos from the lab containing updates on their progress.”

“Fool!” she hissed. He flinched. She gave him a look that did not bode well for his continued health and longevity. “Your incompetence may have cost us everything!”

He swallowed back the instinctive urge to shift blame; it would not buy him any grace here. “What do you suggest we do, Holy One?”

“ _You_ will do nothing,” she retorted contemptuously. “Brother White has been replaced. Our man will be in contact with you shortly. You will cooperate fully with him. Grant him access to your security tapes and anything else he deems necessary to his investigation. Let us hope he can track them back to their lair.” 

The Senator dipped his head. “I bow to the wisdom, Holy One.”

“As you must.” She smirked, taking great delight in twisting the knife. “Naturally the Conclave will be informed of your negligence.” 

McKinley cringed but made no protest. Without sparing him another glance, the high priestess returned to her car. Her voice drifted back on the wind, “Pray for your sins, Brother McKinley. And may the gods forgive you… for the Council surely will not.”

Furious and embarrassed, the Senator stalked back to his own waiting vehicle. “Let’s go,” he barked at the two Familiars. They hastened to obey. 

So preoccupied with their own agendas, no one noticed as a motorcycle followed a discrete distance behind the high priestess’ car.

 

 


	10. All In

“That’s it? That’s all she said? ‘ _Mulder wants to talk to Max._ ’ That’s the whole message?” Logan demanded, his tone conveying annoyance, frustration, and disappointment.

“I think she was afraid of being overheard,” Asha explained with an apologetic half-smile. “Hence the cryptic.”

Logan scowled. Frown lines crinkled the skin around the corner of his eyes and mouth, making him look his age. ‘ _Too cryptic by half,_ ’ he grumbled mentally. _‘I can’t risk Max’s safety on this._ ’ 

“I’m not contacting Max until we know more,” he said tersely. “Does the S1W have anything on this Mulder guy?”

“Ha ha, funny,” Asha said with a laugh and an eye roll. Logan’s unamused expression didn’t waver. Stumped, Asha titled her head to the side and examined him closely. “Wait…you were serious?” she asked with some disbelief, her pale eyebrows arching high. Logan’s frown deepened and he gestured impatiently at her to continue. Asha rolled her eyes again. “Logan! It’s code for Special Agent Fox Mulder from ‘The X-Files’… the FBI agent who believed in everything weird, wacky, and unexplainable and spent his life trying to prove it. Isn’t any of this ringing a bell?” Logan stared blankly back at her. She shook her head in fond exasperation, “Honestly Logan, you need to watch more TV.”

“Because I have so much spare time,” Logan answered dryly. He glanced pointedly around what used to be the dining room in Sandeman’s old house. It hadn’t been used for its original purpose since Joshua invited him, Max, Alec, and Original Cindy over for mac’n’cheese by candlelight. The room was crowded with electronic equipment, including several computers and the sophisticated video system he used to record Eyes Only hacks. Files were stacked on every available surface. Gravity threatened to topple several of the piles. 

“That’s no excuse not to have a life,” Asha chided.

Logan studiously ignored her concern and focused on business instead; an old habit of his designed to keep people at arms’ length. “Did she say who gave her the message?”

Asha shrugged. “Some cop named Ramone.”

Logan wracked his brain. “Ramone, Ramone…” He snapped his fingers when the answer came to him. “Detective Ramone Clemente. He was in charge of the Jam Pony hostage situation… or he was until White took over and got his ass handed to him.” Logan grinned fondly at the memory of that fight. ‘ _I totally kicked ass!_ ’ he thought smugly. The smile faded, to be replaced by yet another frown. “He knows what Max is,” he said slowly.

“O.C. seemed pretty spooked,” Asha offered. “Whatever the detective said to her, it got her scared for Max. I think that’s why she came to me instead of calling Max herself. I think she’s worried the government might try to trace the call.”

“Maybe,” Logan said. Another possibility came to his mind. Transgenics weren’t the only ‘subversives’ the government was interested in detaining. The alliance between transgenics and Eyes Only was public knowledge. It wasn’t inconceivable that they might use Max’s safety as leverage against Cindy, to get her to expose _him_. Or maybe he was just being paranoid. Logan shrugged. Paranoia had kept him safe from exposure more than once. 

“Do you think she’s been flipped?” he asked solemnly.

“No way!” Asha denied hotly. She levelled a glare at him. “O.C. and Max are tight. There’s no way she’d turn on her.”

Logan’s grunt was noncommittal. In his experience there was very little someone wouldn’t do, given the right leverage and enough pressure. His glasses slipped down his nose. He absentmindedly pushed them back up again. “Can the S1W keep an eye on her?” Asha bristled at the implication. “Just to make sure she’s okay,” he quickly placated. It wasn’t entirely a lie. “If he contacted her once, he might do it again. She might be in danger.”

Asha conceded the point. “Yeah, we can do that.” Her lips quirked upwards at the thought of how the guys at Crash would react if she started hanging with Original Cindy on a regular basis. Nothing like a little girl-on-girl action -– whether real or imagined -– to get a guy to sit up and pay attention. ‘ _Men are such perverts,_ ’ Asha snorted. 

Spinning his wheelchair around, Logan rolled himself over to his computer. He rarely bothered to use the exoskeleton these days unless he was going out to meet a contact. There didn’t seem to be much point without Max –- or Alec! –- around to keep up with. 

Asha knew the chair still rankled but privately thought he was better off for accepting it. Modern medicine could only do so much. According to Dr. Carr, even regular transfusions of supercharged transgenic blood wouldn’t permanently repair the damage to his spine. Using the exoskeleton to try and keep pace with the genetically enhanced was a recipe for disaster and humiliation. She rolled her eyes at the memory of Logan falling prey to stereotypical male testosterone posturing. ‘ _It wasn’t as if Logan had been a front line fighter even when he had full use of his legs, so what was he doing trying to impersonate one?_ ’ she reasoned. ‘ _He has his own special skill set to offer the fight. No shame in that._ ’

Logan quickly hacked into the phone records. What he found there made him pause. “Huh.”

“What?” Asha crowded Logan, her hand resting on the back of his neck as she leaned in to read over his shoulder. 

Her skin was warm and soft on his. The ends of her hair tickled his cheek. Logan glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was biting her lower lip, her eyebrows scrunched together in puzzlement. It was… rather cute. He quickly looked away.

“The phone number is registered to a man named Otto Gottlieb,” Asha read aloud. A puzzled crease appeared between her eyebrows. “Wait a minute, wasn’t he…?”

“Ames White’s right hand man,” Logan finished for her. “He’s NSA.”

“So what does he want with Max?” Asha asked. 

“Maybe he found out what his old boss was up to,” Logan mused. “After White’s death, he would have had access to all of his files, even the ones White would have kept hidden.”

“I might be a trap,” Asha cautioned.

“Max will be careful,” Logan said. Asha snorted. He glared at her for the implied insult. “And if she’s not, she’s got an army at her back.” He reached for the phone. “I better call her.”

Asha stiffened and backed away, opening a distance between them. “Right. I should go.” Logan nodded absently, his mind already on the call. Asha hesitated at the door. “I don’t get why O.C. came to me. Why didn’t she just call you herself? I thought you guys were friends.”

Logan refused to turn around and face her. “We were more like… mutual friends of Max,” he mumbled.

“Oh.” Asha’s slim fingers clutched the door frame, needing its solidity as an anchor. She took a deep breath. She could do this. She could be the supportive friend. Even if it killed her inside. “I meant to ask you earlier… How is Max doing?” 

Logan laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “I wouldn’t know,” he admitted. “We haven’t talked in months.” He knew he sounded bitter but couldn’t help it. “She calls O.C. She doesn’t call me.” 

His quiet admission made her head spin. Hope welled in her chest. “She doesn’t… But I thought… I mean you guys were so close…” her voice trailed off.

“We were never ‘like that.’ Not really,” Logan said. The words came spilling out, unbidden. Having his back to Asha somehow made it easier. “It was never the right time. And now we’re living separate lives. She’s got Freak Nation to run… and I have Eyes Only.”

Her thoughts drifted to comrades in the S1W forced into hiding over the years. “It’s never easy losing the people you care about.” Cursing the soft streak that made her want to offer him hope she added, “Maybe she’ll come back once all this is over.”

“No. She’s moved on. With Alec of all people.” Logan grimaced. It still rankled, that Max could go from what they shared -– something so innocent and pure -– to rutting with a little hedonist like Alec. 

“I’m sorry,” Asha offered with genuine sympathy. 

“Don’t be.” Logan gestured towards the phone. “I really should make the call…”

“Yeah.” Asha ducked her head, the ends of her blonde hair falling forward to shield her face. Her voice dropped. “I’ll just… let myself out.”

Feeling strangely reluctant to let her just walk away, Logan called her name. “I did that background check you asked for, on the city councilman you thought might be taking bribes from the mob. We could go over the files after, if you like,” he offered hesitantly.

Her smile was dazzling. It thawed a small corner of Logan’s cold heart. Staring into Asha’s smile, Logan knew that someday -– not yet and maybe not for a long time still, but someday he would be over Max.

“Sure,” she said brightly. “I got time.”

They looked at one another for a long minute. Both sensed that something between them had changed, but it was too fragile to put a name to yet. 

“Make your call,” Asha ordered gently, backing out of the room. “I’m gonna go raid your fridge.”

‘ _The more things change, the more they stay the same,_ ’ he thought wryly, thinking of another girl who was always snacking on his food. For once, the reminder didn’t hurt. 

“Ahah! Now the truth comes out. You’re just using me for my fridge,” he teased.

“Can you blame me?” her voice drifted back. “Ooohh! Real coffee!”

He smiled indulgently and picked up the phone.

 

* * *

 

Max sat quietly in her seat at the head of the conference table, feeling inexplicably nervous. Alec had convened an emergency meeting of the full Council. Section heads and reps from every series, unit, and division were crammed around the large oval table. She spared a warm smile for Joshua, Galen (the head medic), Dalton and Ralph (reps for the X6s), and a polite nod for those X5s she was on friendly terms with. Mole and Syl she ignored entirely. It was petty but Max didn’t much care.

With all the extra people in the room, the cavern seemed crowded and somewhat stuffy and airless. Max was well aware that her light-headedness was simply a psychosomatic reaction and not the result of a genuine lack of oxygen, but that didn’t stop her from trying to catch her breath. She had a bad feeling about this meeting. If she had fur to go with the feline DNA in her cocktail it would be standing on end right about now. 

Logic dictated that Alec had news of the not-so-pleasant variety. Max shivered and rubbed at the goose bumps on her arms. It felt like someone just walked over her grave. A furtive glance around the room revealed that no one else shared her apprehension. 

She wanted to pace as an outlet for her restless energy but forced herself to sit still, not wanting the others to see her as weak and emotional. She had lost enough of her dignity over this already. Max silently resolved that this would be one meeting where she wouldn’t whine or bitch and just deal. If she could manage that, maybe she might actually regain a little of her lost pride.

“Uhh, Max?” Dix called out as he came through the door, “Your phone is ringing.” 

Habit had her on her feet before she thought it through. Pavlov’s dogs had nothing on people when a phone starts to ring.

Alec was not in the best of moods to begin with and anticipating having yet another public fight with Max over tactics was not helping him any. Their break up, Max’s animosity, their constant bickering, the cult’s doomsday agenda… it was all taking its toll on him, stretching his generally easygoing temperament to the limit. He was irritable and short-tempered and furious with himself for being so. 

“You’re actually gonna go answer that? And what are we supposed to do in the meantime? Just sit around and wait for you? Forget it,” he snapped. “We’re all here now so don’t bitch when we start the meeting without you.”

Max shot him a dirty look. ‘ _Where does he get off talking to me like that,_ ’ she fumed. Only her intense curiosity kept her from storming out of the room just to prove a point. 

Alec seemed to recognize how rude he sounded but he bit back the apology that bubbled up. ‘ _Tit for tat,_ ’ he thought spitefully. When had she ever apologized to him for being rude and short-tempered? Still, he had to say something to keep her in her seat. “Whoever it is will leave a message. You can call them back later. This can’t wait.” 

Max grumbled but subsided into her seat without making more of a fuss. Alec and Dix both wore grim expressions and she suspected their news really was too important to miss for a phone call. Dix took a seat but Alec opted to stand behind his chair rather than slouching in it as usual. Max felt her alarm growing. The set of his shoulders and the stiffness of his spine told her that 494 was very close to the surface today.

Alec glanced to the side and tried to gage Max’s mood from her expression. She looked tense and irritable, which was pretty much her usual. He shrugged mentally. Doing a visual sweep of the room, he met everyone’s gaze one by one. “As I’m sure you’ve all heard by now,” he said dryly, “Dix and I have been identifying members of the cult. This _was_ a ‘need to know’ mission.” 

More than a few smirks were aimed in Max’s direction from the assembled transgenics. The way she publicly outed Alec’s detective work -– in the middle of the busy mess hall, no less -– had made security clearance a moot point. She crossed her arms and stared back challengingly, not feeling the least bit contrite for her actions. 

Alec’s voice sliced through the growing tension. “Some recently acquired Intel changes all that.”

Dix cleared his throat nervously. “Uhh, based on cell phone records, we suspected that Senator McKinley might be a Familiar. So Finn and Reina were sent to go check him out. The mission was a success.” Dix grinned excitedly. “Earned us a tidy profit too, off the painting they jacked. Say what you will about the man… he has excellent taste in art.”

“Any trouble?” Mole asked.

“Nothing they couldn’t handle,” Alex answered dismissively.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Max questioned sharply.

“Let’s just say they encountered a little resistance on their way out the door. Some of the Senator’s men objected to them leaving the premises with the Monet.” Alec smirked. Encountering a little resistance was half the fun of pulling a job; or at least it was when you were among the genetically enhanced.

Max couldn’t help her own involuntary smirk but she quickly schooled her features back into impassivity. Alec didn’t need the encouragement. “Was anybody hurt?” she asked with a sidelong glance at Galen, who shook his head even as Alec answered for him.

“Nah. Finn and Reina are both fine.”

“And what about the guards?” Max pressed with some asperity.

“They’ll live.” His expression turned smug. “In fact, you could say they’re feeling no pain.”

Max’s stomach dropped out. “The guards were Familiars.” It wasn’t a question. It didn’t need to be; the self-satisfied look on Alec’s face alone told the story.

Mole chuckled loudly. “Told you he was dirty, princess,” he said with great satisfaction. “And you thought he was just a poor, misunderstood Norm playing in the wrong sandbox.”

Alec quelled him with a look. 

Max blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the unexpected defence. She didn’t know whether to be grateful to Alec for shutting Mole down or annoyed that he thought she needed his help to deal with the rude lizardman. She turned her ire on Alec. 

“Tell me they didn’t clash with the guards on purpose,” she ground out. She didn’t actually need him to confirm it out loud; the proof was in his eyes. Her hands clenched into fists. She could throttle him. ‘ _If he pit our men against Familiars in some kind of macho pissing contest…_ ’ 

Alec just shrugged. He could have explained that the altercation with the guards was a deliberate ploy to push the Senator into doing exactly what he did, except he didn’t feel like arguing with her about it. But this time Max was actually ahead of him. 

“You wanted him to suspect it was more than a robbery,” she said flatly. “You wanted to see who he would report to.” Alec nodded, pleased that she seemed to get it. Unfortunately for him, Max clearly disagreed with his reasoning. She exploded, “You just outed us too, dumb ass! If Finn and Reina got away clean after going up against Familiars then he’ll know that they’re X5s. He’ll expose us live on national TV! It’ll start a witch hunt!”

Syl exchanged an exasperated look with Mole. Her baby sister was so focused on the details she never saw the big picture. Zack would have been appalled. 

Alec rolled his eyes. “Pfft. He does that and the feds will be all over the crime scene. The cult can’t afford that kind of exposure,” he said confidently. “McKinley’s got too many dirty little secrets to let them poke around in his private business.”

“You better pray you’re right, Alec,” she warned darkly. A shiver ran down her spine. “There are so many ways this could blow up in our faces.”

‘ _Am I a bad person for enjoying this just a little?_ ’ Alec wondered. After all, the Intel Finn and Reina acquired did vindicate him of all but the worst of Max’s accusations. “Malachi reported in this morning,” he said, his voice betraying none of his inner thoughts.

Malachi was the darkly enigmatic head of Surveillance and Reconnaissance, Max recalled. He rarely spoke but nothing seemed to escape his gaze. Patient and still, he reminded her of a lizard –- even more so than Mole who resembled one physically. She arched one brow, curious about the apparent nonsequitor. 

“McKinley had a meeting about, oh…” Alec glanced at his watch “…an hour ago--” 

“So?” Max interrupted snidely.

“--at the Seattle docks with a high priestess from the cult,” Alec continued as if Max hadn’t spoken. “He’s a short-term thinker like you, Maxie.” Alec couldn’t resist digging the knife a little. Max gritted her teeth but refused to give him the satisfaction. When she didn’t rise to the bait, he pouted a little but continued, “He wanted to go to the feds and even suggested he hold a press conference on national TV to ramp up the Norms’ paranoia. The priestess flat out refused. Insisted he keep it on the down low. Told him they have a man on the inside at the NSA and to leave the investigation to him.” Alec turned to ask Dix to track the man down but the nomaly was already scribbling a note to himself.

“Great, so instead of a cop on the trail of an art thief we’ve got a fanatic with a hard on for vengeance against us looking to find our home,” Max scoffed, her voice more shrill than she wanted it to be. 

“It doesn’t matter. We’ve got the advantage. Malachi’s scouts are tailing the priestess back to base as we speak.”

“That’s if she even is a priestess,” Max challenged. She knew she was being difficult but couldn’t seem to help herself. Worse, Alec knew it too judging by the glare he sent her way. ‘ _So much for behaving with a little dignity,_ ’ she chastised herself with a mental eye roll.

“McKinley called her Holy One,” Alec snarked. “Is that proof enough for you?”

Max surrendered, albeit with ill grace. “Fine. So the Senator worships snakes. And soon we’ll know where they keep the ugly buggers when they’re not busy waving them at the moon. Whoopie. Did that buy us anything worth knowing, or did we just give them one more reason to hate us.” 

“A pretty painting?” Alec said facetiously. 

Unamused and annoyed, Max glared at him, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find the words to put him in his place. Alec waited her out with a calmness that infuriated Max. He was still on his feet and he used his greater height to advantage, looming over her and forcing her to look up at him. 

A fake cough from Dix broke the staring contest. Max whipped her head around, suddenly remembering that he was their resident translator of cult loony-babble. Her stomach did a strange little dip and she swallowed hard against the taste of bile. 

“Finn and Reina scooped the Senator’s hard drive,” Dix was saying excitedly, “And man, did they hit pay dirt!” He abruptly sobered. “Uhhm, I mean, I’m still running it through the translation software so I’m not one hundred percent certain about everything on it, but one part _was_ pretty clear…” He swallowed hard and, unable to meet Max’s gaze, he turned to address the room at large. “The cult is trying to recreate the virus.”

Max couldn’t breathe. She shrank into her chair. Alec's voice calling her name seemed to come at her from a long distance away. It was hard to hear him over the blood rushing through her head. 

Alec automatically reached out to her and cupped her shoulder, the press of his hand offering her his warmth and strength. She stared blankly up at him, her dark eyes seemingly too large for her face. 

Alec felt guilty and cursed himself in half a dozen languages for behaving like the insensitive jerk she always accused him of being. A better man would have broken the news to her in private first. His only defence was that he tried very hard not to think about Max these days, and that was hardly an excuse. 

“One of Dr. Cross’s junior lab assistants is still alive,” Alec explained. “I guess he wasn’t important enough to be present in Seattle for the Purification. Now, he’s their best hope to recreate the virus. And… he’s doing it.” He hesitated, watching Max closely, a mute plea in his eyes. “We have to stop him.”

Max just nodded, not trusting her voice to hold up to the strain. Her hands felt icy. She clasped them in her lap, the knuckles gone bone-white from the pressure of her grip. She had convinced herself that the battle in Seattle had put paid to the cult’s threat. She could almost hear the sound of her comfortable illusions shattering. 

‘ _How many times do we have to save the world from these creeps?_ ’ she wondered despairingly. Tired of constantly fighting, a part of her deep down thought that maybe taking the cult out for good wasn’t such a terrible idea. Ruthlessly she squashed that feeling before it could take root. 

Syl wished she had the words to comfort her baby sister. Max seemed so fragile; a look not normally associated with the fiery-tempered brunette. It was clear she was taking Alec’s news very hard indeed. Max had changed more than any of the Niners. She was the most human of them all and that made Syl, like Alec, want to protect her. Only Max wouldn’t thank her for it. Syl sighed. ‘ _Sometimes you can’t win for losing._ ’

Alec turned to face the room. Representatives from every unit were gathered around the table. He met their eyes, each and every one. They sat up a little straighter under his scrutiny, their heads held high. His lips quirked into a proud smile.

“This isn’t Manticore,” he said with quiet dignity, “and I’m not that bitch Renfro. I’m not going to order you to risk your lives in a war to save humanity. So right here, right now, we’re going to forget that we’ve got a military chain of command and pretend that this is a democracy. Everyone in favour of declaring war on the cult, raise your hand.”

Mole’s hand was predictably the first one up, followed immediately after by Joshua’s. In quick succession every hand in the room went up. Every hand except Max’s that was, but Alec hadn’t really expected anything different. He glanced over at the brunette. She seemed to be in shock. Alec wondered if she was even aware of what was happening right in front of her. 

“Those opposed?” Alec asked. The question was a mere formality. It was unanimous; Freak nation was going to war. His smile widened into a predatory grin that showed too many sharp teeth. “Majority rules. Let’s kick some unholy ass.”

The crowd murmured, a sound like wind rushing through the trees, but for the most part the transgenics awaited their marching orders in silence. To listen and obey without hesitation or question was engrained in them since their earliest memories, only now that loyalty was given out of genuine respect for their commander rather than fear or blind duty.

The vote barely registered with Max. She was far too busy having a crisis of conscience. Her thoughts were whirling. She’d backed the wrong horse and now she had to pay the piper. If they had listened to her they never would have known about this latest threat. In her desperation to believe that they -– she! –- could be normal and safe and not a threat to anyone, she forgot just how vicious and bloodthirsty the cult could be. And now she was in the rather peculiar position of having to be grateful that Alec was a trained killer. 

Some things sucked beyond the telling of it.

Max could feel Alec’s eyes on her and knew he expected her to object but what could she say? The cult had to be stopped. Obviously kicking their asses in Seattle wasn’t enough to teach them a lesson. If anything, it probably made them more determined than ever. Alec was right. They had to see it through. And as much as she detested the very thought, they were the ones best suited for the job. 

Alec had braced himself for a storm of protests from Max that never materialized. Anger drained out of him, leeched away by the lost-hurt-alone look in her eyes. He signalled to the others and the room quickly emptied. Tugging her chair around, he sat with his legs bracketing hers and took her cold hands in his.

Joshua hovered in the doorway. He nudged Syl with his elbow, tipping his head at the couple and grinning happily at the sight of Max’s hands resting in Alec’s strong grip. Syl nodded and offered a smile back, although hers was less optimistic. Experience taught her that nothing was resolved that easily. She gently pushed Joshua out of the room, giving the estranged couple some privacy.

Alec’s heart clenched at seeing Max brought so low. He loved her fiery passionate nature, her unflagging idealism. She was a hero in the truest sense of the word… and he felt small and shabby next to her.

It was too late for him; the stain on his hands would never come clean. But she didn’t have to live with his regrets. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t want to be right,” he said softly. “But… the virus… it’s too lethal to be allowed to exist.”

“I know that!” Max choked on a bitter laugh. “It’s no different than Seattle.” She had to force the words out around an uncooperative tongue. It felt like she was chewing glass.

Alec extended an olive branch. Anything to take that look out of her eyes. “Conscientious objection isn’t a crime, Max. Feel free to sit this one out,” he offered.

She gave him a watery smile, feeling pathetically grateful for the offer. Part of her wanted to take the easy way out but she knew she would never be able to look herself in the mirror again if she did. “No. I’ll fight. Just tell me when and where.”

“Are you sure…?”

His eyes were tender. He looked at her as if he genuinely regretted being right. Confusion welled up inside her. How can she reconcile these two opposing halves of Alec? He was this gentle, compassionate, generous man… and at the same time he was also a hardened killer. His diligence had likely saved them all… but he also had people killed because they stood in his way.

It was one thing to kill an enemy soldier on the battlefield and another thing entirely to murder someone for their religious beliefs.

She couldn’t afford to let herself forget that; couldn’t pretend it didn’t matter. There had to be consequences or else they were no different than Manticore.

Yanking her hands out of his, she fled the room.

 

* * *

 

The voicemail was a welcome distraction, right up until the point where Logan came on the line.

_“Hey Max, it’s Logan. It’s been a while. I hope you’re alright.”_

Max squirmed uncomfortably. The vaguely parental tone of voice Logan always used with her made her feel guilty. It was the last thing she needed on top of the heaping dish of shame she was trying to swallow already.

_“I got some… interesting… information through the informant net yesterday.”_

Max froze in place, her expression resembling a deer facing down the headlights of a Mack truck. ‘ _He knows. Oh god he knows about the hits._ ’ Hot shame flooded through her body, leaving her shaky and queasy. She _promised_ him that Alec wasn’t a ‘true blue soldier’ anymore. She _swore_ that transgenics could be trusted out in the world, that they weren’t a threat to anyone.

Alec had made a liar out of her.

_“White’s former right-hand man, Otto Gottlieb, wants to talk to you. Apparently he knows about the cult and he’s conducting an investigation. Call him. He could be a valuable ally, if you can get him on board.”_

Max’s jaw dropped. She stared at the phone. That was so much the opposite of what she expected that she doubted her hearing.

Logan rattled off a 14 digit number which Max automatically memorized as it floated past her ears. Dropping the cell phone onto her desk, she slumped, her head resting in her hands. Now she was really confused. 

The million dollar question was… did Otto’s interest make things better or worse for them?

 

* * *

 

Alec watched Max retreat into the privacy of own mind. Sitting alone at her desk, she stared mindlessly off into space, oblivious to the activity going on around her as Freak Nation geared up for war. Her spine was curled forward, her shoulders hunched defensively, and her head was tucked down into her chest. Her hands lay uselessly on her lap, palms up as if to catch the tears he knew she wouldn’t let fall. Not here. She looked so forlorn and more defeated than he had ever seen her.  


He didn’t know whether to hold her tight or shake her until her teeth rattled.

Losing Max had hallowed him out and left him a shell. He wanted her back, wanted to be hers again with a desperation the like of which he’d never felt before, but he refused to surrender his principles. It was a lesson he learned from her ironically enough. 

If you wanna be the hero you can’t be half-assed about it.

Rebuilding Max’s shattered trust in him wouldn’t be easily accomplished. Alec scrubbed his weary face. He had to ask himself, was it even worth the effort? She had no faith in him. Her trust broke so easily. She hadn’t even waited for an explanation before bolting out the door.

How could he trust her again? This would always lie between them.

Torn, in the end it was easier to just walk away.

 

 


	11. Collateral Damage

It was one of those rare unseasonably warm days where the wind held an edge of warmth -- a reminder that spring was coming even though there were months still to go before winter would deign to relinquish its grip on the land. The sky was an impossible blue and arched so high overhead it seemed infinite. Fresh snow lay thick on the ground, glittering in the bright sunshine. All that white against the blue, blue sky and the dark splash of evergreens like a bridge between them... it was a beautiful day.

Alec couldn’t decide if it was a tribute to _her_ , or a slap in his face.

Today was January 25 th , 2022. Rachel’s birthday. She would have been 20 years old today, if she hadn’t died. 

If he hadn’t killed her.

He raised the bottle of bootleg liquor to his lips and drank deeply, head tipped all the way back, muscles working strongly as he swallowed, chasing oblivion as it poured down his throat. His free hand dug idly in the snow by his hip and unearthed a rock coated in ice. Sharp edges bit into his palm and made him bleed. He stared at the blood in rapt fascination, despite having seen it spilled so many times before. 

The blood slowed to a sluggish trickle, the torn skin knitting itself together rapidly while he watched. He clenched and unclenched his hand forcing the wound to reopen. Tender skin and nerves protested but he welcomed the pain. He deserved it.

Taking aim at the trees in the valley below, he let the pebble fly. Blood arched in its wake, splattering across the pristine snow. 

 

* * *

 

“Knock, knock,” Syl called out as she entered Joshua’s studio. 

The combination studio and art classroom was located on the top floor of one of the school buildings. The two outer walls were made of glass; floor to ceiling windows that let in an abundance of natural light. The inner walls were covered with murals painted by Joshua’s students. Easels were scattered around the room like leaves, proudly displaying artwork in various stages of completion. A pottery wheel sat at the back of the room (the kiln was safely tucked away in the basement). The youngest students had made mobiles out of brightly coloured bits of paper, feathers, pine cones and other objects collected from the woods around Sanctuary, and strung them from the ceiling. It was bright and cheerful; everything their classrooms at Manticore weren’t.

Syl made it a priority to visit Joshua as often as she could, since Max refused to stop by his place unless she was absolutely certain Alec wouldn’t be there. Even though Joshua understood her reasons it still hurt his feelings. He had offered Alec asylum because the X5 was family, not because he was taking sides. But Max didn’t see it that way so Syl did what she could to make up for it. As did Gem. The pretty X5 was currently ensconced on a cushy bean bag chair with her daughter Ruby cuddled on her lap, chatting with Joshua while he painted. The two were very close and had been since that fateful day at Jam Pony. 

“Hi Syl,” Gem greeted the blonde cheerfully. Ruby waved a chubby hand and then turned bashful and hid her face in her mother’s shirt. Gem smiled indulgently and kissed the top of Ruby’s head.

“Hey guys.” Syl held up the box in her hand. “I come bearing doughnuts.”

“Ooh! Any chocolate ones?” Gem asked eagerly. Syl nodded and passed her one. Gem took a big bite out of it first and then broke off little bits and hand fed them to Ruby.

Syl moved up behind Joshua to examine his latest painting. It was dark and forbidding, blue on black, livid bruises on the canvas. It screamed pain and loss and grief. 

“Heavy,” Syl commented with a shudder, unable to tear her eyes away from the painting. The anguish in the piece was almost tangible. “What is it?”

“Alec,” Joshua replied succinctly, his eyes on his work. “Today a dark day for Alec.” He flicked his paintbrush, splashing dark red across the scene; the colour of old blood, dried blood.

“We’re all a little on edge,” Syl said, referring to the upcoming battle. 

Joshua shook his head. “Not that. Not the cult. Today dark because of what he lost. What Manticore stole from him.”

It clicked. Syl had heard the stories of Alec’s doomed love, although not from the man himself. Alec rarely spoke Rachel’s name. His was a private love, and a private grief. 

“That girl… the one he loved. Today’s the anniversary of her death, isn’t it?” Syl whispered, as if saying the words out loud would give them even more power over the living.

“Worse,” Gem replied equally as soft. “Today was Rachel’s birthday.”

The two women exchanged a long measuring look –- Syl determined; Gem protective. Finally Gem nodded in acquiescence. “He’ll be outside,” she informed the blonde Niner. Off Syl’s puzzled look, Gem explained, “They threw him in the basement for a year after Rachel. He’ll want to be somewhere he can see the sky today.”

Syl winced instinctively. That was an impulse she was well acquainted with. Reaching out, she stroked Ruby’s chubby cheek. Ruby stuck her thumb in her mouth and laid her head on Gem’s shoulder. Her eyes were dark and solemn. Syl spared a smile for the little girl.

 

* * *

 

Syl found Alec on the top of the ridge, one hand locked around the neck of a bottle of hooch. “Hey,” she said cheerfully, “there you are. I’ve been looking for you.” 

Alec ignored her. Undaunted, Syl plopped herself down next to him, snagging a corner of the blanket he’d spread over the snow, and snuggled in close for warmth, her body pressed against his from shoulder to hip. His arms were resting on his upraised knees. She slipped her arm over his and curled her hand around his wrist, the tips of her fingers pressing against his pulse. She lightly stroked that patch of skin, grounding him in the here and now. With her other hand she took the bottle and raised it to her own lips. 

“Ugh! Nasty,” she complained, coughing and pulling a face when Mole’s special brew didn’t go down smoothly. “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”

He grinned slyly at her. “I like things that bite.” His momentary good mood vanished as if it never was. As if maintaining the illusion that he was ‘alright’ for even that long was too much effort. Alec returned his gaze to the horizon, his eyes gone flat and dead. “I’m not in the mood to talk,” he said bluntly.

Having expected him to be rude and brusque with her, Syl wasn’t deterred in the least. “I’m not asking you to. We’ve all got things we don’t want to talk about. I just want you to let me keep you company.”

“I came out here to be alone.”

“I know. But you shouldn’t be. Not today.” 

“Who told you?” Alec demanded, angry that his privacy had been invaded. 

“Joshua. And Gem,” she added as an after thought.

“Great, just great,” he snarled grumpily, “JoJo the dog-faced boy thinks I need a babysitter.”

“Hey!” Syl protested on Joshua’s behalf. “Be nice. He’s your friend. So am I.”

“So what,” Alec retorted. “You think if we share a bottle the pain will just magically go away?”

“No. But I figure if we share the bottle I can keep you from getting so drunk that you fall off the cliff and smash in your pretty boy skull,” she said with a cheeky wink.

Alec shuddered. “Thanks for that lovely mental image. I need to scrub my brain now.” 

“Better your brain than the rocks, don't you think?” Syl teased. In the triumph of hope over experience, she reached for the bottle again and took a long swig. It burned just as badly the second time down. “Bleagh.” She made a face and stuck her tongue out, and roughly thrust the bottle back at him. “On second thought, have at it.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” Alec smirked. 

“It’s vile.”

“It works.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

“I won’t.” Alec deliberately took a long drink. 

A comfortable silence descended. Perhaps because Syl made no effort to pressure him, Alec began to talk. “I was a good soldier. One of the best and I’m not bragging. I had to be, to make up for Ben’s betrayal. I followed my orders, did what I was told, no questions asked. And then I met Rachel Berrisford…”

Syl made a noncommittal noise of encouragement, soft enough for Alec to ignore if he wished. He chose to continue. The words spilled out of him in a torrent.

“She wasn’t like anything I ever knew. She was… alive… in a way that we just… weren’t.” Alec grimaced self-consciously. “Geez, listen to me, I sound like a friggin’ girl! Could I be any more lame?”

Syl graciously ignored both the outburst and the implied insult. She understood his discomfort. Manticore alum weren’t accustomed to sharing feelings at the best of times and he had a male’s fragile ego to deal with on top of that. “Was she pretty?” she asked.

“She was beautiful,” Alec corrected, stung that anyone might make his girl seem less than she was. Syl hid her smile and just nodded encouragingly. 

“She was beautiful,” he repeated. “Not just on the outside but… on the inside too, y’know? Rachel was the happiest person I’d ever met. She laughed all the time.” His lips quirked up in a tender smile. “Her sense of humour sucked. She told the lamest jokes but you couldn’t help but laugh with her. Everything made her smile. And that made _me_ smile, too.” Even now the memory of Rachel’s smile was enough to prompt an answering one from him. It softened his blank mask into something real, something terrible and beautiful in its tragedy. 

“You fell in love with her.”

“Of course I did.” Alec replied with quiet dignity. “She looked at me and saw a good man… and that made me want to be one.” He choked out a sound that was half sob, half laugh. “But I was just pretending. I was a soldier on a mission. Not a man at all.”

Alec buried his face in his knees, unable to continue past the constriction in his throat. He shook with the effort to suppress the tears. He refused to cry. He was _not_ that weak.

Syl rubbed gentle circles on his back. She watched him shudder and shake under the weight of his regrets. Tears welled up in her own eyes. She let them spill down her cheeks, weeping for a girl who died too soon and a boy who never really got to live until it was too late. 

“Manticore ordered you to kill her,” she pressed softly, urging him to let it out. He needed to lance the poison from the wound or else it would fester and never heal.

His voice was muffled by his knees but clear enough to her enhanced hearing. “When she kissed me… nothing made sense. I was so confused. I didn’t understand what I was doing. I had all these… feelings… that I’d never had before. I didn’t know who I was anymore.”

Syl tightened her arms around him, offering him her silent support. She hated hearing the defeat in his voice. No one as vital and alive as Alec should ever sound that broken.

“They ordered me to take them both out, father and daughter. They wanted their deaths to be a message to other Manticore contractors. I _told_ them I could eliminate Berrisford without involving her, that she was unnecessary collateral damage. She didn’t deserve to die! She was innocent. She never hurt anyone in her whole life.” Even now, two years later he sounded bewildered. 

“They told me not to question my orders. Threatened me with another stint in Psy Ops if I didn’t do as they said.” He flinched at the memories of that place and what he endured there. “I couldn’t go back there! Not again. So… I followed orders.”

The bottle fell unnoticed to the ground. Alec scrubbed his face, yanking his hair with both hands, needing the pain to distract him from the horrors that lived inside his head. “I should have fought harder for her. I just didn’t understand what she meant to me.”

Holding his hands up, he examined them closely. He shuddered and tucked them away out of sight in his lap, as if to hide the blood he could still see there.

“I planted the car bomb,” he admitted, his voice bleak and heavy with self-recrimination. “But…I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill her. Not my Rachel.” He sighed heavily, a wealth of regrets exhaled on a breath of sound. “I wasn’t their perfect soldier anymore. But I couldn’t save her either. I tried to warn her. I told her why I was there. That she was my Job. The look in her eyes…” He shuddered, his whole body recoiling at the memory. 

“It was all for nothing. I couldn’t save her. She wouldn’t listen to me.” Alec shrugged listlessly. “I can’t blame her. I betrayed her. Why would she trust me? She ran out to save her father and the bomb detonated. She was in a coma for two years. She died without ever waking up.” He shuddered.

“It was all my fault,” he choked out in a dead voice. “If she never met me, she’d still be alive.” 

Despair ate at him. People like him didn’t get ‘happily ever after’. Rachel would have been better off without him in her life. And so would Max.

“Hubris,” Syl said sharply.

“Excuse me?” The criticism shocked him out of his despair. His head snapped up and he glared at her.

“Hubris,” she repeated calmly, not at all put off by the rage simmering behind his pretty green eyes. “It’s an Ancient Greek term meaning excessive pride or--”

“I know what it means,” he snarled, teeth bared in a silent warning not to trespass. Syl doggedly forged ahead. 

“Do you?” she queried. “Because you’re not acting like you do. Berrisford was a threat to Manticore. He knew too much. They wanted him dead. If they hadn’t sent you, they would have sent someone else. The kill order would have been given regardless. But because they did send you, Rachel got to fall in love before she died. She got to know what it is like to be in love with someone who loved her back. That’s more than some people get.”

“I betrayed her! There is nothing good about what I did to her.”

“Alec…” Syl’s voice was infinitely gentle, yet implacable. “You planted the bomb but you didn’t press the trigger. In the end you made a choice. The right choice. You chose her.”

“But I didn’t save her.” The bitterness in his voice was a tangible thing.

“At least you tried.”

Alec shook his head futilely. “‘There is no try. There is only do,’” he quoted.

“Bullshit,” she retorted, suddenly furious. “You can’t ‘do’ unless you ‘try’ first. And you tried.”

“But not hard enough,” he protested. He clung to his guilt with both hands, the only act of contrition he could offer his dead love.

“What happened to Rachel was tragic and senseless and it will haunt you until the end of your days. But. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault. _Manticore_ killed her. They used you to do it, and that sucks beyond the telling of it, but it’s not your fault. They _used_ you.”

Alec just shook his head. He seemed to retreat in on himself. Syl seized his arm and tugged hard, forcing him to reconnect, to turn and face her. There was nothing she could offer this man that would make it better for him… nothing but understanding borne of her own guilt.

“You think I don’t understand? I. Do.” Syl said fiercely. Tears welled in her eyes, making them shine like sapphires. “I killed my own brother. He didn’t even have a name yet. He hadn’t found one that fit.”

Alec looked at her questioningly.

Syl took a deep breath in a futile effort to compose herself. “A couple of months before we escaped, we were on a training mission in the woods. It was just a routine mission, but everybody was on edge.” She glanced sidelong at Alec. “You heard about the kill we made, right? The convict that we…” Alec quickly nodded his understanding, sparing her from having to describe that death too. 

“This was just a little after that day. The TAC officers were still looking at us funny. We didn’t dare screw up. We didn’t know what they’d do to us. I was so nervous. A bird –- a fucking bird! –- took off out of the trees and my finger moved on the trigger before I even realized what I was doing. I was the best shot in our unit. Only I didn’t hit the damn bird. I missed the target.” She shook her head, a bitter laugh tumbling out of her mouth. It was sharp and hard and full of self-loathing. “I shot one of our own. Drilled him right through the heart. He died. Instantly.”

Alec made a soft sound of commiseration. His wrapped his arm around her, tucking her close to his side. She leaned into him, soaking up the comfort he offered.

“They sent me to Psy Ops to make me forget.” Syl shook her head, baffled. “How could I forget when there was an empty bunk in our barracks because of me?” She fiddled with the fringe on the blanket, idly picking at the loose threads. “The others never said anything to me but I could see it in their eyes. Zack was real careful where he assigned me… for a long time after.”

“We’re so fucked up,” Alec offered in commiseration. His arm tightened around her shoulders. 

“Humpty Dumpty,” she nodded sagely. “Teams of psychologists couldn’t put us back together again.”

“Drink?” Alec offered the bottle. Syl eyed it dubiously then shrugged and took a long pull.

“What do we do?” Alec asked, not really expecting an answer.

“The best we can. Every day.” She offered Alec a sad smile. “We let it make us a better person. And we don’t ever forget.”

“No. We don’t,” he agreed. Taking the bottle back he fortified himself with a long drink. “They tried their damndest to make me forget. I got sent to Psy Ops and Reindoc. Again. They made me forget her face but they couldn’t make me forget the way she made me feel.” He shrugged helplessly. “I don't know how to explain it. It’s like she… woke me up inside or something. I was never their’s again. Oh, I played by their rules, got myself cleared for missions again, but they couldn’t make me believe their bullshit any more.”

He had rebelled in all the little ways he could. Running a black market out of the barracks was his most profitable venture, but by no means the only one. It was a dangerous game but he hadn’t much cared by that point. Between repeated stints in Reindoc and Manticore’s isolationist policies when it came to the Niner twins, he had learned the hard way there was no one he could rely on except himself. He turned cold inside, aloof, caring for no one but himself, and he would stay that way until Max.

“Can I ask you a question without… offending you?” Syl asked, surprisingly tentative.

One eyebrow rose sardonically. “You’re asking me this now...  _after_ the conversation we just had?”

Syl had the grace to blush. “Why didn’t you ever try to escape?”

“And prove Manticore right?” Alec snorted in disgust. “Prove I was just as much a traitor and a flight risk as Ben? And then what?” he asked rhetorically. “Live my life on the run, hunted like an animal, always having to hide what I really was, never able to trust anyone with the truth because it could get them killed. Knowing that my unit would be punished in my place.” He shook his head in vehement denial. “No. It wasn’t worth it.”

Syl dropped her head and hid her face behind the curtain of her hair.

Alec flushed and tried to take back the implied criticism. “Syl, I didn’t mean to--”

Syl waved him off. “No, it’s okay. You’re right. It wasn’t much of a life.” She gestured behind them at Sanctuary. “ _This_ is so much better. And that’s down to you and Max.”

Uncomfortable with the praise, Alec tried to shrug it off. “It’s Max’s doing mostly. She’s the one that’s determined to live like a Norm, come hell or high water.” 

Syl seized the chance. “Don’t give up on her,” she urged.

“Why not?” Alec asked bleakly. “She gave up on me.”

“It’s not really about you,” Syl disagreed. “It’s just Maxie’s knee jerk reaction to anything Manticore. It’s about what they did to us. What they made us become.”

“She thinks I’m one of them. A stone cold killer. Nothing else I’ve done since we got out matters to her! Only that counts.”

“It’s hard for her to accept that you can be both Alec and 494. She’s terrified of that part of herself taking over. She doesn’t trust herself, so she can’t trust anyone else. I know it’s not fair but try to be patient with her,” Syl counselled. “She’ll come around.”

“Honestly… I don’t know if I’ll be here when she does,” Alec admitted, looking ashamed and confused. “She gave up on me so easily, Syl. It wasn’t even hard for her.”

“Don’t think that! Not even for a minute!” Syl insisted desperately. “She. Loves. You. She’s just confused. Max is her own worst enemy.”

“I don't know. Maybe she’s right about me. I didn’t look all that hard for another way. I went with what I know best. Killing.”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Alec! Don’t second guess yourself.” Syl hauled him around to face the dorms. “They needed you to do what you did. They need you to be both Alec and 494, to make the hard decisions Max can’t. They follow you because it’s the right thing to do and they know it.”

“Max doesn’t think so.”

“Max doesn’t know everything.”

“I still love her,” Alec admitted, sounding defeated. “And I hate her, too.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “God, that’s so messed up.” 

Anger burned through him -- clean and sobering. He was fed up with taking her crap. She gave him hell for running scams and hustling pool but he’d heard the stories about how she used to do exactly the same thing. She cleaned up her act just before he came on the scene and even then it was only because _Logan_ didn’t approve of her extracurricular activities. ‘ _Unless it was for Eyes Only,_ ’ he snorted, ‘ _in which case Loggie was all for it._ ’ 

Max was a hypocrite. Where did she get off acting like she was so much better than him?

“That’s love.” Syl grabbed his hand and held on. “It’ll make you bleed… every time.”

“Love sucks.”

 

* * *

 

Agent Otto Gottlieb answered the phone on the second ring. He sounded distracted. From the sound of voices in the background, Max surmised that he was at work. She silently started the countdown in her head.

“Hey. It’s me hitting you back,” she said casually.

There was dead air on the line for several seconds then the sound of a door closing. “452?” Otto asked tentatively.

“It’s _Max_ ,” she insisted, suddenly seething. She had a name like normal people. How hard was that to understand?

“Right. Sorry.”

Max could practically hear him wince. She smirked to herself, pleased that he was off his game. It gave her the power and she intended to keep it that way. Inside her head, the countdown reached 20 seconds.

“Thank you for calling me back… Max.”

“No biggie.” 

“I’ve got a lot of questions for you. To be honest, I don’t know where to start.”

Fifteen seconds. 

“They’ll have to wait. I’m calling to give you a heads up. You’ve got a mole,” she warned. Hopefully being in her debt would make him more receptive towards transgenics, not less. Gratitude made people act strangely sometimes. 

“Actually I already knew that.”

10 seconds. 

“But thanks for the warning. I appreciate it.”

“We’re not the enemy,” Max said bluntly. “Are you?”

“Not unless you start something.”

Five seconds. Time to wrap up. 

“Good to know. I’ll be in touch.” She hung up before Otto could say anything more. She knew he was probably staring at the phone wondering if he should have one of his analysts trace the number. She hoped he left it alone; show of good faith and all that. Max dropped the cell to the ground and crushed it under her boot. No sense taking unnecessary risks. 

Scooping the fragments up, she dumped them into the trashcan. Behind her she could hear the sounds of the council organizing their troops to go to war. She refused to get up out of her seat and participate. Being there for Armageddon was one thing. Helping to plan it was another thing entirely. 

Unbidden, her thoughts drifted to Alec. She owed him an apology. 

She’d rather take another bullet than give him one.

Almost against her will, her eyes drifted across her desk and landed on the calendar. She knew the significance of the date and as angry as she was with Alec, she couldn’t turn her back on him today of all days. It would take an even bigger bitch than her to leave him to face it alone.

If she couldn’t give him an apology, she could give him something even more valuable. 

Resolve fixed, Max left HQ in search of the man she still cared about, probably more than she should. 

 

* * *

 

 

Max was about to tear her hair out in frustration. Alec wasn’t anywhere to be found. He wasn’t at his desk in Command. He wasn’t at Joshua’s apartment. He wasn’t in the dining hall, the bar, the rec room, the gym, the hot springs, or the firing range. She even checked the library, as unlikely as that was.

Stubbornness was the only reason she hadn’t conceded defeat. She was almost ready to take it personally. Sanctuary just wasn’t that big a place. A sudden suspicious thought had her spinning around to scan every window that looked out onto the quad, wondering if he was hiding on her deliberately just so he could watch her run around like a fool. Blank windows stared back at her. Max rolled her eyes at her own foolishness.

She slumped against the wall. With her hands shoved in her pockets and her head hanging limply, she was the picture of dejection. She pouted at the universe at large, feeling very sorry for herself. Here she was, trying to put aside her issues with Alec and be there for him, and he wasn’t cooperating. Even though he had no idea she was looking for him, it still felt like he was rejecting her help. Admittedly the hunt would go a lot easier and quicker if she would just break down and ask for help but she wasn’t ready to explain to anyone why she wanted him found. For a second or two she considered just giving up before her better nature asserted itself. She could not in good conscience abandon him to face his ghosts alone. 

She blew an errant strand of hair out of her eyes and glared up at the heavens. ‘ _Don’t I get points for trying? I’m being nice, damn it!_ ’ she whined. ‘ _C’mon, help a girl out._ ’

Apparently the universe decided to be agreeable. 

As if summoned, Alec chose that very moment to walk around the corner. ‘ _Finally!_ ’ she grumped mentally. She jogged forward to meet him, and then she spotted her big sister turn the corner right behind him and stumbled to a halt. 

Apparently Syl already had his back. 

The hand Max had raised to wave at him fell awkwardly back down. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. On the positive side, she'd found Alec. On the down side, she'd never anticipated having to do this with an audience. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Just why was he hanging out with Syl, anyway? 

Syl swore viciously in her head when she caught sight of a pouty Max. Alec didn’t need any attitude from her today. She resisted the urge to just grab him and run before Max could say anything to beat him down even more than he already was. She stepped up and stood shoulder to shoulder with him. 

Max huffed mentally at Syl’s almost protective stance. ‘ _Who does she think he is, his mother? And just what does she think I’m gonna do to him?_ ’ It hurt to see them stand so close together their hands were brushing. Max watched Alec accept the comfort Syl offered so effortlessly; unable to tear her eyes away despite the fact that it was breaking her heart. Was she so easily replaceable?

Max forcibly suppressed any and all such thoughts.

For one brief second Alec thought he saw tears in Max’s eyes but put it down to wishful thinking because they were gone when he looked again. ‘ _I’m the last person she’s gonna shed any tears over,_ ’ he reminded himself brutally.

The tableau held for several seconds until Max couldn’t stand it any more and broke the silence. “Hey Alec, how’s… everything?” she said lamely.

Not in the mood for a duel, Alec deliberately chose to misunderstand. He looked around him at the quiet campus. “Everything looks fine to me,” he said blandly. 

Max rolled her eyes. “I meant with you. Are you… okay?”

Alec spread his arms wide and curled his lips into a familiar smirk. He held the carefree pose for several seconds. “You know me, Maxie… I’m always alright.”

Max sighed. She swallowed back her temper and tried again, knowing the attitude was just a cover. “I wanted to, uh, talk. To you.”

“Really? About what?” Alec plastered on a look of polite interest that was patently false. 

“I, uh… I know what day today is.” Max resisted the urge to shuffle her feet. This was _not_ how she imagined this conversation going. In her head, Alec was a lot more grateful.

Alec’s eyes went dead and cold. “So?”

Syl rolled her eyes. She wanted to knock both their heads together. Hard. Max was making a real effort -– although you would hardly know it with the way the girl could barely manage a full sentence -– and he chose now to act like a pissy jerk.

Max counted backwards from 10 in an effort to rein in her temper. “So I wanted to see if, uh… maybe you wanted to… talk, or something?”

Alec chuckled, a sharp staccato burst that was devoid of any humour. “Talk. With you. Why? Because you care?” 

Max flinched. Alec’s voice dripped with disdain. It hurt to have that scorn aimed in her direction. “Yes! I do!” she insisted. Her eyes flicked away and she murmured, “Though god knows why.” 

He shook his head in an automatic denial. Did she really think he was going to mourn the loss of his first love with his ex-girlfriend? Particularly given the manner of Rachel’s death?

“I know you, Alec,” Max pressed. “I get how you’re feeling.” Alec didn’t answer; just stared past her through blank eyes. Max forged ahead, frustrated but determined to see it through. “I know how much she meant to you. She was special. She--”

“Rachel. Her name was Rachel,” he barked, unable to hold himself back. “If you’re going to talk about her at least have the courtesy to use her name.” He hated how the dead were always reduced to a nameless ‘he’ or ‘she’. As if they weren’t real people anymore. 

“Right,” Max flushed. She wished she’d never bothered. Syl wouldn’t let up with the death glares and Alec clearly didn’t appreciate her presence. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. Is there anything I can do…?”

She looked so uncomfortable, as if talking to him about Rachel was a chore she wanted over and done with as soon as possible. Alec supposed he should be grateful for her concern but couldn’t spare the emotional energy to care. He was gutted; worn out and hollow. He half expected the next gust of wind to blow him away. “Spare me your pity, Max,” he snarled, “I don’t want it.”

Max recoiled as if slapped in the face. Alec pushed past her and stormed off. Baffled by his hostility, Max could only stare at his rapidly retreating back. ‘ _What the hell just happened here?_ ’

Syl squeezed her hand in passing as she moved to follow Alec. “He didn’t mean it,” she offered.

It was the wrong thing to say. Max wrenched her hand free. All of the anger and insecurity inside her came boiling out and she snarled at Syl, teeth bared in an instinctive threat display. There was a brief look of hurt and confusion on Syl’s face before she carefully blanked her expression, but Max dismissed it as unimportant. The two sisters stared at each other across an invisible line drawn in the snow. Typically, Max ended things first by walking away. 

“Whatever,” she tossed over her shoulder. She kept her back to Syl to hide the tears of humiliation and anger that threatened to spill. “Like you know anything about him. Or me.”

Syl rubbed her temples in a futile effort to ease the headache that just blossomed, fully grown, behind her eyes. Sighing, she turned to track a hurting Alec down for the second time that day.

 

 


	12. Revelations

Jondy quietly let herself into Max’s home, shutting out the wind and the snow with a grateful shiver. Dumping her coat on the coat rack coat she detoured into the kitchen to grab an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter and then plopped down onto the sofa in front of the television. She propped her feet up on the coffee table next to a half dozen beer bottles and a nearly empty bowl of popcorn -- detritus of last night’s movie fest. Jondy made a face at the mess and sighed. They never had to clean up after themselves at Manticore. Mind you, they never got movies nights either so it was a fair trade. 

The apple was firm and tangy and made a delicious crunch when she bit into it. She hummed happily to herself. Suddenly her attention was caught by a strange noise from the bedroom. Suspicious, she dropped the apple onto the coffee table and went to investigate, swallowing hard to make the half-chewed piece go down faster. A quick glance confirmed that Max’s coat wasn’t hanging on the coat rack by the door. 

‘ _Alec_ ,’ Jondy concluded. She stalked down the hall towards the bedroom, her natural inclination to be stealthy warring with her desire to stomp her feet. ‘ _He better not think this is still his home just because his stuff never left_ ,’ she fumed.

She pushed the partially open door wider and reached in to flick on the overhead light. The sudden brightness made Max flinch and moan in protest. She flung an arm over her face and turned away from the open door.

“Oh Maxie,” Jondy tsked sympathetically. The brunette was curled into a little ball of abject misery in the middle of her bed, still wearing her winter coat. One boot was discarded on the floor while the other was still on her foot, as if the task of stripping off her outerwear proved to be too much for her and she just collapsed halfway through. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose was splotchy and dripping, and her thin shoulders quaked with the force of her tears. She was a pitiful mess.

Jondy climbed onto the bed and cuddled the shivering lump of crying girl. Stroking Max’s long dark hair, she crooned meaningless sounds of comfort. Seeing tough Maxie in tears had always made her want to kill whatever was hurting her little sister. Since she couldn’t eliminate Alec she had to settle for seething hatred instead. All in all, Jondy thought she was handing the situation remarkably well, considering she hadn’t yet given into the impulse to kick his ass. 

‘ _Although that might change, depending on what the jerk’s done now,_ ’ Jondy reflected. That thought perked her mood right up. Nothing like the prospect of a little violence to make an X5 feel good about life.

The sobs finally tapered off into sporadic weepy hiccups. Jondy fetched Max a tissue from the bathroom and waited while she blew her nose and then passed her a damp washcloth. Max smiled gratefully and wiped the tear tracks from her face. Sitting up, she unzipped her jacket, panting a little as she finally realized how overheated she was. Max was a little embarrassed that Jondy saw her in such a state. Sheer willpower kept the tears at bay most of the time, but she was just too tired to fight it today. 

“Why do you let him get to you like this?” Jondy asked quietly, not really expecting an answer. “He’s not worth all this fuss. Don’t let him do this to you.”

Max tried to laugh but only a strange sort of wheezing sound came out of her parched throat. “My bad,” she managed to say, “I didn’t… handle things well.”

Jondy just snorted in response. “And I’m sure he’s completely blameless in all this,” she muttered under her breath. “Saint Alec.” Jondy was self-aware enough to recognize her dislike of Alec wasn’t entirely rational. She’d been closer to Max than anyone before the escape and she was sick with envy that Alec had taken her place. It felt good to get it back. She wasn’t about to let him steal his way back in, not without a fight.

“Jondy…” Max said helplessly.

Jondy smiled apologetically and tugged Max close. She laid her weary head on her big sister’s shoulder. Jondy wrapped thin but strong arms around her and gently resumed stroking her hair, the idle motion soothing to them both. Max sighed gratefully and snuggled a little closer to the one person in her life who had never let her down. The fact that Jondy hadn’t been around for the last twelve years to let her down was ruthlessly ignored as Max soaked up the feeling of safety and protection. 

“I made a mess,” Max said in a small voice and pointed to the scuff marks left by her boot on the covers.

“It’ll come out in the wash,” Jondy answered pragmatically.

‘ _Wonder what kind of laundry setting would clean a messed up life?_ ’ Max wondered idly. Aloud she admitted, “I went to talk to him today.” 

Jondy pursed her lips in disapproval. “I don’t understand why you don’t just stay away from him!” Max’s lower lip quivered. Jondy sighed guiltily and suppressed the urge to scold.

“I just wanted to tell him…” Max’s expression crumpled. She buried her face in her hands. Only a few disjointed sounds emerged. “…sorry… anniversary… huge fight… Syl…” She flung herself down on the bed and cried the big gasping sobs of a hurt child who doesn’t understand why they’re in pain.

“Syl?” Jondy repeated blankly. She shook her head in vexation. She’d expected better from their sister. Patting Max on the back, she waited for her to make sense again. 

Eventually the storm passed. Max rolled onto her back and stared blankly up at the ceiling. “I screwed it up,” she said morosely. Knowing what Jondy’s reaction was likely to be, she carefully averted her eyes. Her fingers idly plucked at the blankets, creating hills and valleys in the fabric.

“No, you didn’t!” Jondy protested loyally. “None of this is your fault!” she insisted. “Alec made his choice. You did the right thing when you kicked him to the curb. He went behind your back. He _lied_ to you.” She wondered darkly what else –- or rather, _who_ else -– he’d done behind Max’s back. She had heard the stories of what a tomcat he was back in Seattle. As far as she was concerned, someone like that didn’t deserve her little sister.

Max’s lips tugged up into a sad smile. Jondy was fiercely loyal to her family, but especially to her -– the baby of the family. It was a balm to her battered ego. She frowned. Jondy’s words were meant to soothe her hurt pride, but at the same time as they were stroking her ego they were also pricking her conscience.

‘ _What a mess,_ ’ she thought despondently. He hurt her so she hurt him, so he hurt her back… and on and on it went in a never ending cycle of blame and recrimination. She was heartily sick of it all. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.

Max missed Alec so much. She wanted him back. Here, with her, in their house where he belonged. Only she couldn’t have him; she couldn’t overlook what he’d done. Just because the cult was trying to restart the apocalypse did _not_ make it okay to off random cultists. She was terrified his actions would lead a mob to their door. If Ordinaries ever found out they were killing American citizens, it would start a witch hunt that would never end until they were all dead or back in a cage. She couldn’t let that happen to their people. 

She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt; to believe that she got it wrong. That he didn’t  order the death of all those Familiars because he enjoyed killing, and he only lied to her about it to spare her pain, not because he was a cold-hearted, manipulative bastard. But part of her couldn’t help but wonder if covert missions and assassinations and bullshit military logic about ‘containing the threat’ were how 494 really wanted to run things around here.

Jondy’s heart whimpered in sympathy at the forlorn look in Max’s eyes. She’d give anything to change it, even give her back her useless, psycho boyfriend. ‘ _Well, maybe not that_ ,’ she amended. 

“What happened?” she asked gently.

Max just shook her head, unwilling to explain. Torn loyalties pulled her in too many directions. Jondy would take her side because that’s what she did, so Max would be forced to take Alec’s side out of a sense of fair play, only Jondy wouldn’t be terribly pleased with her for defending him and she just didn’t have the energy to get into another fight today.

Jondy swallowed her impatience at Max’s reticence. They used to tell each other everything back at Manticore. This grown up version of her sister was full of secrets and she didn’t like it. She’d missed too much of Max’s life already. Though that was no one’s fault but her own. She’d failed Maxie the night they escaped, when Max fell into the icy water and she ran to save herself instead of staying and saving her baby sister. She’d just left her behind. That single act had haunted her for years. Never knowing if her sister made it safely away or was retaken by Manticore. Jondy would do anything now to make up for her failure then. As much as she resented the distance between them, she would not do anything to jeopardize their returning bond. So if Max wanted to cling to the belief that there was some good left in Alec, she wouldn’t argue too much. Or at least, not today.

“Distract me?” Max asked in a plaintive voice.

“No problem!” Jondy said eagerly. She jumped up off the bed and prodded at Max to do the same. “C’mon, get up!” she pouted when the brunette moved too slowly for her taste.

Max rolled her eyes and sat up with her long legs dangling over the end of the bed. “Alright already,” she grumbled good-naturedly, “I’m up.”

“Race you to the obstacle course.” Jondy spun and ran out the door, a giggle floating back behind her. “Last one there has to do the laundry for a week!”

“Hey! No fair, you cheated!” Max protested. She haphazardly shoved her foot in her boot and sprinted after her sister.

 

* * *

 

Agent Seth Evans slipped out the back door of the NSA field office. He spared a cautionary glance around the deserted parking lot before pulling his cell phone from his coat. Hs hands would be trembling with nervous anticipation… if he felt such a mundane, human emotion. 

“Fenes’tol,” proclaimed the cold voice at the other end of the line. 

“Fenes’tol,” he responded quickly. Excitement thickened his voice. “I have the location, Holy One! I hacked CCTV footage to track the transgenic filth from Brother McKinley’s home to their vehicle. Then it was simple matter to follow their progress out of the city and—”

“I am not interested in the particulars,” the head priestess interrupted coldly.

He subsided ungraciously. Surely he deserved credit for successfully hunting down the animals’ lair when all others before him had failed?

“You are certain of its veracity?” 

“Of course!” he replied, stung. 

The high priestess smirked to herself, amused by the agent’s posturing. Men -- whether human or Familiar -- were so predictable, their egos so tender. 

“Permission to contact the Phallanx immediately,” he requested.

“Denied. Give the intel to Agent Gottlieb. Let the government clean up their mess.”

“Agent Gottlieb?” he repeated. “Is that wise, Holy One? It seems wrong to entrust a _human_ with this.”

“I have no use for foot soldiers who question the decisions of the Council,” she responded acerbically. 

“…I bow to the wisdom.” 

He disconnected with barely controlled violence, hand clenched hard enough around the phone to crack the plastic casing. He stalked back in to the building the NSA had appropriated for the anti-transgenic task force, other agents scattering before him like leaves stirred by the wind. That pleased him; prey should always defer to the predator. He snatched his evidence from his desk and marched to Agent Gottlieb’s door. He knocked perfunctorily but did not bother to wait for permission to enter before walking in. A triumphant smirk lit his face. At least here his brilliance would be recognized.

“Sir, I have something you need to see.”

 

* * *

 

Max lingered outside the door of one of the hydroponics bays, smiling fondly as she listened to Joshua teach a botany lesson to a group of attentive X8s. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the scent of green growing things. It brought her a measure of peace that was shattered a moment later when she sensed _him_ behind her. She would recognize those footsteps anywhere. Her smile faded as if it never was. 

Alec stepped up next to her, the open door bracketed between them. She refused to turn and face him, instead keeping her eyes resolutely fixed on Joshua and his lesson. Unwilling to talk about their encounter yesterday, she blurted out what she’d been thinking before his approach. “They look so normal.” She snorted; an unladylike sound of derision. “If normal were a 7 foot tall dog man for a teacher and a classroom buried under several hundred tonnes of rock.”

“Normal is a relative term, Max,” Alec said mildly. He gratefully followed Max’s conversational lead. He didn’t want to fight; he was still raw and aching from yesterday. Unable to sleep, he’d lain awake all night and counted his sins. He burned with shame over the things he’d said to Max. She’d sought him out to offer comfort and solace, because no matter how angry and disgusted she was with him, she didn’t want him to be alone on Rachel’s birthday. And he’d thrown it back in her face. He was such a bastard.

“Is this going to be our lives now?” she asked plaintively. “Hiding in a dark cave…” She missed the High Place. There was no where around here high enough to gain the perspective she desperately needed. 

“ _Our_ lives. Maybe theirs too,” he gestured towards the X8s, “But the little ones, the babies… They don’t have barcodes. They’re born free. They’ll be able to integrate, live the American dream, have everything you wanted.”

“The world will never accept us,” Max said fatalistically.

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” he countered. He hated seeing her so defeated and pessimistic; that wasn’t his Maxie. 

“They’ll still have to hide what they are.”

“Out there. But not in here. They can have both worlds, if they want it. Their choice.”

“And the rest of us?”

“When have you ever let anything stop you from doing what you wanted?”

It was the first civil conversation they’d had since their break up. She risked a glance in his direction. Alec was smiling that polite, meaningless smile he wore when he didn’t want anyone to know his thoughts. He was hiding himself from her. She _hated_ that look.

He snared her eyes, his gaze intense. He might never get another chance to apologize. They were marching to war tomorrow, after all. “I’m not sorry for what I did, but I am sorry I hurt you doing it.”

“Can we not talk about it?” Max asked wearily, hanging her head. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“So let’s not fight.” Alec reached out and took her hand. “Why can’t you trust me?”

“How can you ask me that?!” She snatched her hand back, as if burned. “We’re supposed to be partners but you went behind my back and made this huge decision without consulting me. And you lied to me about it for months!” She crossed her arms defensively. 

“I did what I thought was right.”

“So did I.”

Silence fell. Neither wanted to break it. Joshua’s deep, rumbly voice washed over them both, soothing tattered nerves. Both smiled fondly at their friend.

“He’s good at this,” Max observed quietly. She let her hands fall to her sides. 

“Artist, gardner, teacher… who knew?”

“Certainly not Manticore,” Max agreed with a snort. “Have you seen his new mural on the ceiling in the nursery?”

“Yeah, it’s cool. The babies seem to like it.”

“At least there’s something we can agree on,” Max said wryly. 

Alec bristled. “Ashamed you could have something in common with a cold blooded killer?” he snarled.

“Wait! Alec that’s not what I meant,” Max protested.

Alec refused to listen to any more of her vitriol. It already played on repeat inside his head; he didn’t need to hear the live version too. He spun on his heel and stalked off, almost bumping into Dix as he rounded the corner. Max sighed and slumped against the wall. 

‘ _Did Alec feel like this_ ,’ she wondered, ‘ _Every time I got mad at something he said and walked away from him?_ ’ She knew he didn't mean a lot of the things he said the way she’d taken it to mean. It was just her own… insecurities… rearing their ugly heads. She never felt half so comfortable in her own skin as him. He was so much more comfortable with his training and instincts than her. He fit into the human world with greater ease than she’d ever managed despite having 10 years of practice on him. 

A sudden thought pierced her self-absorbed musings. So often she mistook the intent behind his words. Was it possible she also mistook the intent behind the hits?? Unbidden, Alec’s better traits came to mind -- the ones she’d deliberately forgot about in these last few hellish weeks, along with a list of every time she’d misjudged him in the last two years. How was she supposed to figure out his motives? It seemed every time she tried, she was wrong. Max’s head started to pound.

“Max,” Dix called out from behind her. “Um, can we talk?” The nomaly shuffled nervously from foot to foot.

‘ _Great, more good news_ ,’ Max thought cynically. “Sure, what’s up?”

“When you found the file in Alec’s office… did you even read it?” Max huffed and looked away. “That would be a ‘no’ then.” Dix shoved the incriminating folder into her hands, ignoring her attempts to resist taking it. “Read it. _All_ of it. We make better decisions when we’re in possession of all the facts.”

Max wanted to refuse but morbid curiosity held her back. ‘ _Damn feline genes,_ ’ she grumbled to herself. “Fine,” she huffed. “But it won’t change anything.”  


“Just read it. Please.”

 

* * *

 

Max flipped through report after report, growing steadily more annoyed at Dix. ‘ _Why on earth would he think I needed to see all this?_ ’

At the top of each mission report was the target’s name and ‘STATUS: TERMINATED’ in stark letters. She was about to slam the folder shut when something caught her attention -- a kill order that Alec _hadn’t_ sanctioned. She stared blankly at the incongruent statement. 

‘STATUS: REQUEST FOR TERMINATION DENIED. MAINTAIN SURVEILLANCE.’

Quickly she flipped through the rest of the file, looking for others and setting them aside.

Max stared at the two piles. Granted one stack was a lot smaller than the other, but at least it was there. Stifling a burst of excitement, Max started cataloguing the targets. It didn’t take her genetically engineered brain long to find the pattern. Every single hit was a target who either occupied a position of power in the government or had access to dangerous information. Max was horrified by how widespread the cult was. Like a cancer, it was eating away at the core of the nation’s political, financial, and military infrastructure. 

Staring at those two piles, Max begrudgingly realized two things. First, Alec wasn’t on a power trip. He hadn’t indiscriminately ordered the murder of innocents. If they weren’t an active threat, they got a pass despite their religious affiliations. Somehow he’d managed to walk the line between zero tolerance and turning the other cheek. 

Second, and perhaps even more importantly, she’d underestimated just how good Alec was at his Job. She’d been terrified his actions would bring an angry mob to their door but there was nothing that could tie these deaths back to the transgenics. Every hit had been cleverly disguised as either an accidental death or suicide. Judging by the crime scene reports and autopsy results, no one suspected foul play. On the surface, the victims had nothing in common, nothing to like them together into a nation-wide killing spree. Only someone who understood the significance of the burn mark on the victims’ inner arms would see the pattern. 

Max slammed the file shut and pushed it away from her across the desk. If only it were as easy to  physically distance herself from her new knowledge. She buried her face in her hands.

She’d misjudged him.

 

* * *

 

Otto stared that the phone on his desk. He knew he had to inform his superiors that the transgenics had finally been located, but something held him back. Guilt, perhaps? The transgenics weren’t going damage bound on the general population. On the contrary, they were acting in the best interests of the nation by containing the greater threat. But there was a gnawing doubt at the back of his mind that he couldn’t ignore. What would happen once the cult was eliminated? Would they target humanity next? 

His head told him not to trust the transgenics. His guts said they were honourable soldiers. 

Otto sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a headache that was growing steadily worse the longer he hesitated. ‘ _Damn conscience. Life as a government spook would be so much easier without it._ ’

Smiling grimly, Otto forced himself to pick up the phone. He had a job to do and a country to serve.

 


	13. The Dogs of War

The transgenic army assembled in the largest cavern in the complex. The mouth of the cave was deceptively small, but once past the entrance the rock walls abruptly soared upwards into a vast cavern that resembled a cathedral. Towers of living rock strained towards the ceiling. Stalactites and helictites were lost to sight far above their heads. An opening at the top of the dome let in the light. Dust motes danced and shimmered in the sunbeams. There was a weight of silence to the air, like a living thing.

X5s filled the centre of the chamber, lined up in their old units. The younger X-series stood on one flank, the transhumans on the other. They would not be marching to war; they would remain behind to guard their home. But pride had every last transgenic standing together on the eve of war. 

Of the transhumans, only Joshua and Mole were going into battle. Max barely mounted a token resistance, knowing it was futile to argue. Joshua had been permanently seconded to her unit and Mole just flatly refused to be left behind.  

Alec waited for her at the front of the chamber. He was dressed all in black. Black cargo pants, clingy black long-sleeved turtleneck, black Kevlar vest, black utility belt, black weapons. Everything was black, right down to his belt buckle so it wouldn’t reflect light at night and expose his position. He bristled with weapons. He looked sexy and dangerous. But then again, so did she. 

‘ _Commando Barbie and Assassin Ken_ ,’ Max thought mockingly. ‘ _Set comes with body armour and assorted weapons. Army sold separately_.’

She was heartily sick of playing solider. Was this ever going to end? This was not the life she wanted for Freak Nation. She stifled a sigh and began the long march to take her place next to Alec at the head of the assembled transgenic army.  She’d challenged him publicly and been proven wrong. Now she had to show them all that she stood with him in a united front against their enemy. 

Alec watched her approach, his face perfectly blank and emotionless. No, not Alec… _this_ was X5-494. A trained killing machine; ruthless and implacable. Max shivered. As much as she resented their training, she was grateful for it. It was the only reason they could stand against the cult and win. And when the threat was over, once and for all… maybe then they could finally become something more than just what Manticore wanted them to be.  

She stepped up next to 494. Max couldn’t - wouldn’t - retreat into her training the way he did. She would be Max, not X5-452. But she would fight, all the same.

She tossed her long hair over one shoulder. “Let’s finish this bitch.”

 

* * *

 

Cult headquarters was a sprawling estate on the Oregon coast that once belonged to a ‘one percenter’ who’d lost everything in the Pulse. Back when he’d still had his billions, he’d torn down an historic landmark plantation house in Virginia and had it shipped across the country and rebuilt stone by stone. Designed in the Georgian style, it consisted of of a three-story central structure with two wings jutting out on either side and several outbuildings. Boxwood hedges enclosed the pristinely manicured lawn. Old growth trees shaded the house. The 1000 acre property was ringed by a massive wrought iron fence topped with barbed wire to deter would-be thieves and gawkers.

Reconnaissance revealed that only the priests, acolytes, and servants lived on the premises permanently. Typically the rest of the cult arrived only to celebrate their high holy days. Fortunately for the transgenics, a full conclave had been convened to mourn the recent loss of so many of their brethren and to discuss new plans to disseminate the doomsday virus, as soon as Dr. Cross’ assistant finished recreating it. Even though not every member of the cult was present, all of the high-ranking members were. The cult’s leadership would be gutted by this night’s bloody work. The rest of the misbegotten flock could be hunted down at leisure, using the cult’s own files to locate them all. 

The transgenics leapt the fence and slipped through the heavily wooded grounds like smoke and shadows. What provided privacy for the compound was convenient cover for an invading army. The woods had gone quiet and still. Sensing danger, the local wildlife had either fled or hid deep in their burrows and hoped the predators would pass them by. Even the moon hid its face. 

The transgenics moved like the well-oiled war machine they really were. Teams fanned out around the perimeter, forming a noose around the entire complex. There was a rapid burst of chatter on the comms as each team radioed in their position. Satisfied that no Familiars would be able to slip the net, 494 signalled to the snipers to move out. 

Syl grinned in anticipation. ‘ _Show time_.’ She slunk through the trees, seeking the best vantage point to hit her mark. Unslinging her favourite SV-98 sniper rifle from across her back, she settled herself on her belly and took her time adjusting the bipod legs. Finally satisfied with her gear, she fell into the ‘zone’ where nothing existed except her rifle and the target. Sighting carefully, she steadied her breathing and gently squeezed the trigger, turning the Familiar’s head into a red ruin.

She allowed herself a triumphant grin before flicking open a channel on her headset. “X5-701 reporting. Target acquired.”

There were laughably few sentries posted around the perimeter of the compound, testament to the Familiars’ sense of superiority. One by one they fell, leaving their base open and unguarded.

 

* * *

 

With the sentries down, it was time to breech the interior. 494 signalled to Mole and his team. Clamping his ever-present cigar between his teeth, Mole hoisted an RPG-7 rocket-propelled grenade launcher to his shoulder, flicked off the safety, and let it fly. A thunderous boom shook the world. Where the ornate front doors once stood was now a gaping hole of splintered wood and smashed rock. Screams of shock and rage echoed up from inside the building. The rest of Mole’s team fired 25mm Militech Mini Grenade launchers in rapid succession, blowing out the windows on the first and second floor, shredding the Familiars inside in a hail of glass. Debris flew everywhere, making the air hazy with dust and smoke.

Mole grinned in unholy delight. He had a stash of 93mm HEAT warheads and permission to use them all. He was going to enjoy this.

 

* * *

 

Everything moved swiftly after that opening volley. The first wave of transgenics blurred across the open ground, dodging enemy fire. The Familiars had rallied quickly against the incoming threat and were retaliating, although between the smoke and debris clouding the air and the transgenics’ speed they were mostly shooting blind. Reaching the main house, the transgenics tossed stun grenades into the building. The Familiars’ still human senses were briefly incapacitated by the flash bangs, giving the transgenics sufficient time to breech the interior and dig in. Submachine guns set on fully automatic, they laid down 10 seconds of raking fire that tore through walls, furniture, and bodies alike. Under that onslaught, most of the cult opted to retreat further back into the building, leaving the way open for the transgenics to advance. 

Once the foyer was secured and the first line of defence obliterated, the second wave of transgenics stormed the building. They surged up the central staircase to the upper stories, determined to force the Familiars to fight on multiple fronts. Meanwhile, units in the third wave peeled off to clear and hold the outbuildings.

Splitting into groups, the transgenic army methodically swept room by room, killing everyone in their path. 

 

* * *

 

Syl spied movement at one of the second story windows. Focusing in on the source of the movement, she watched a priestess clamber awkwardly out the window, hampered by her full, ankle-length robe. She teetered precariously on the narrow windowsill, overbalanced, and fell to the ground. He leg crumpled under her on impact. Ignoring the injury, the woman glanced warily around her and then scuttled forward in a half-crouch, aiming for the safety of the trees.

Syl smirked. She let the woman get within two steps of the safety of the trees before sniping her. 

 

* * *

 

The fighting eventually spilled outside. The formal gardens were a mess, plants torn and shredded beneath combat boots, the earth muddy from spilled blood. It was mostly down to hand-to-hand combat now - the transgenics unwilling to risk hurting their own with friendly fire in the melee - but Max could still hear the occasional percussive burst of gunfire from inside the house.

Max’s team - herself, Zane, Krit, Jondy, and Joshua - had already located and secured the outbuilding containing the sacred snakes. The medics wanted samples of the venom before the snakes were destroyed, as a precautionary measure. They’d encountered very little resistance; only one acolyte was there, and he was quickly dispatched by Zane. It was rather anticlimactic. Jondy stayed behind to guard the building while they boys left to join the fighting. Max skirted the edges of the battle, feeling the need to bear witness to the devastation. Everywhere she looked Familiars were being dispatched with ruthless efficiency. ‘ _Superior beings my ass_ ,’ she snorted. 

Some of the bodies on the ground were transgenic. It was the price to pay to save the world. Max could only hope the cost wouldn’t be too high.

She caught sight of the creepy kid with the telekinesis half a second before he saw her. Even as her muscles bunched to blur away, she felt herself snatched up by a giant hand and flung through the air. She hit a wall hard enough to force the breath from her lungs. She defied gravity, pinned to the wall like a butterfly on display. 

He smirked at her and then narrowed his eyes in concentration. Max felt a heavy weight settle on her chest and start to press inexorably down, forcing the air from her lungs. Max struggled for leverage, desperately trying to push herself off the wall. The creepy kid grinned at her, taking pleasure from her pain and fear. The invisible boulder on her chest grew even heavier. She was panting for breath now, her heart pounding in her ears. The edges of her vision went grey. 

A blur of black hit the boy hard. His mental grip on Max loosened when he lost eye contact. Pressing weight gone, Max dropped to her feet. Even as she gratefully sucked in deep lungfuls of air, she scanned her surroundings for the threat, ready to pounce in defence of the transgenic who came to her aid.

She watched in horror as Alec stumbled back from an invisible hit to the solar plexus. The boy reached out with one hand, as if to aim better.

“ _No!_ ’ Heart in her throat, Max darted forward and smashed her cocked elbow into the boy’s face hard enough to break his nose. He stumbled backward, surprised by the unexpected blood gushing down his face and dripping down the back of his throat. Clearly he’d never had his nose broken before. That moment of hesitation cost him. Alec blurred past her. Faster than thought he bracketed the boy’s head in his strong hands and gave a sharp twist. The boy fell at their feet, eyes staring sightlessly, neck twisted at an impossible angle. 

Alec’s eyes flicked over her, cataloguing every bruise. 

“I’m okay,” Max hastened to reassure him. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Alec gestured vaguely behind him. 

Max nodded. “Go,” she said. “Be—”

“—careful,” he finished for her. He smirked. “You really need to get a new catch phrase, Maxie. You’re getting predictable.”

“Oh?” Max said and arched one eyebrow. “I guess I could always go back to the classic, ‘Alec, I am so going to kick your ass’.”

“You know, on second thought I like ‘Be careful.’ It has a nice ring to it.” They shared a smile before Alec’s face faded back into his impassive soldier mask. 494 was back on the hunt for the head priestess. “Watch your six!” he cautioned as he vanished into the house. 

Max marched over to the fallen boy. Death had frozen a look of surprise on his face. To her shock, she felt no remorse for his murder. How could she have ever believed the cult wasn’t a threat unless it was actively plotting an apocalypse to overthrow humanity? This kid was _evil_. He would have been sent out into the world in a few years, causing unimaginable damage out of sheer pleasure in bringing others pain. 

Looking down at the body, Max was grateful that they got Ray White out alive, that he escaped this place that turned children into sadistic killers. And that made her think of Ben. 

Max sighed. Why were there no easy answers? Life would be so much simpler if the world really was black and white.

She stared in the direction Alec had vanished. She wanted to go after him; tell him she was sorry that she was a blind, stubborn fool. An explosion outside rocked the building. By the acrid smell of burning gasoline, Mole just blew up another car, ensuring there would be no getaway vehicles left for any Familiars attempting to flee the premises. Max shook her head sharply. ‘Focus, soldier!’ she reprimanded herself. The middle of a battlefield was not the place to let her mind wander. There would be time to make things right with Alec later. 

She hoped. She sent a silent prayer for protection and forgiveness to Ben’s Blue Lady. ‘ _Keep him safe_.’

Spying a Familiar gleefully choking the life out of a transgenic, she kept into action. Diving low, she hit him hard from the side and drove him into the ground. He had the advantage over her in weight and height however, and quickly reversed their position. Pinning her beneath his bulk, he sneered down at her. “Filth!” he spat in her face.

It was an arrogant and stupid mistake. So busy taunting the transgenic beneath him, he forgot about the one at his back. Max twisted her hips, throwing him off her. Arching her back into a bridge, she flipped to her feet. The female transgenic she’d rescued - X5-884, now known as Kaerli, a leggy brunette with bright blue eyes - had already entered the melee. She kicked him in the ribs, hard. He grabbed her foot before she could retract it so she went with it, collapsing her weight. Her knee slammed into his ribs as she dropped, breaking the bone she’d already cracked with her boots. He may not feel the pain of it, but if she could drive the broken bone into his lung it would kill him all the same. 884 punched that same spot twice more before he managed to toss her aside. 

Max moved in just as he found his feet. She tried for a spin kick but he snagged her ankle - making it two for one with that move - but she compensated by dropping her weight to her hands, pivoting around her captured foot, and nailing him in the head with her free foot. He staggered back from the blow, releasing her foot as he stumbled. Max pushed off into a backhand spring, gracefully landing on the balls of her feet. 

884 and Max circled the Familiar, pinning him between them. His eyes flicked between them constantly, trying to watch both X5s at once. 884 feinted to the left. He dodged, and Max lashed out at his knee, causing it to buckle. He staggered but didn’t go down. While he was recovering his balance, 884 slipped past his guard and landed a straight jab at his throat. He retaliated with a punch to the face that sent her reeling backwards. 884 danced out of range while Max took point. They exchanged a flurry of blows while 884 slid into position behind him. She pressed her gun to the back of his head and calmly blew out his skull.

“Thanks for the assist,” 884 said. The two exchanged a fierce grin. Together they started hunting for another target.

 

* * *

 

The upper two floors were quickly cleared. As expected, the fighting was heaviest on the main floor. An unknown number of Familiars had barricaded themselves inside the library. Pressing his back to the wall, 494 cautiously peered around the corner. The library doors were shut tight and most likely braced closed with something heavy. He glanced over his shoulder at 229 and 739, who waited patiently at his back. 494 bared his teeth in a predatory grin.

“Light it up,” he ordered.

Grenades ripped through the ornately carved wooden doors. The solo operatives were carrying white phosphorous incendiaries - anti-personnel rounds with the nasty addition of burning molten metal that ate into exposed flesh. The Familiars might not feel the pain of their wounds, but it would slow them down.

494 signalled to the waiting troops to hold position. This fight belonged to him and his fellow solo operatives. The world held its breath, waiting to see how the cult would respond. 

With shrieks of rage, three Phallanx bravely - foolishly - charged the waiting transgenics. Leading the attack was the female warrior from the fight at Jam Pony. Flanking her was a tall, blond man with pale blue eyes who resembled a Viking and a slightly shorter and much stockier Hispanic man with flawless olive skin, wavy brown hair, and deep brown eyes.

“The bitch is mine,” 494 snarled and blurred into combat. In his peripheral vision he spied 229 and 739 engage their targets. Trusting them to get the job done, he focused on defeating his own opponent. Dodging her reckless charge, he swept her legs out from under her. She tripped but rolled over her shoulder and came back to her feet quickly, spinning to keep him in her line of sight. Her eyes widened in surprise when she caught sight of her opponent. “You!”

“Me,” 494 confirmed.

She laughed derisively. “You cannot defeat me, freak.”

“Just watch me,” he snarled.

494 fought with all the grace of his feline heritage. The uber-Familiar’s  technique was far less refined, relying more on brute strength and insensitivity to pain to power through any attack. She came out swinging, a barrage of heavy blows aimed at his head and chest. 494 deftly twisted and slid out the way, using his greater speed and agility to dodge the blows. She snarled in frustration.

739 hit his opponent - the tall, blond Viking - with a backhand to the face and followed through with two quick punches to the body. The uber-Familiar absorbed the blows and threw a right hook that caught 739 on the jaw. 739 unleashed a haymaker that barely fazed the man. Having taken the measure of one another now, they circled warily, fists at the ready.

Leaping high, 229 snapped a kick that took her opponent - the Hispanic - in the chin. He was built like a linebacker, all solid muscle. The diminutive X5 looked positively tiny next to his bulk. She knew she’d have to rely on her greater speed and dexterity to stay out of his reach. Toe-to-toe the advantage was his, whereas apart she could rely on kicks and aerial manoeuvres to inflict damage while taking little in return. He rushed her, intending to hammer her into submission with his fists. She neatly sidestepped the charge, kicking him in the side of the knee. He staggered but didn’t go down. He lashed out with a backhanded slap, forcing 229 to dance back out of range to escape the blow 

494 landed a powerful right hook to the temple that should have rendered his opponent unconscious but didn’t. ‘ _Damn selective breeding_ ,’ he groused. He slammed his off-hand into her exposed side. She absorbed the blow to her kidneys and threw a straight punch at his throat, which he blocked with his forearm. She ducked under his guard and landed a vicious uppercut that rocked him on his feet. 494 shook it off. She faltered slightly, clearly having expected him to go down under the force of that blow. But unlike that day at Jam Pony, 494 wasn’t fighting while injured and suffering from blood loss. Today he was in peak physical condition. It was going to be a very different fight. He ginned savagely. 

229 lashed out with side kick that connected with the target’s knee. He staggered but stayed on his feet. She tried to kick him again but he intercepted and grabbed her leg. 229 used his hold for leverage to leave the floor and nail him in the diaphragm. The strike forced the breath from his lungs. 229 hit the floor on her back when he released her leg. She went into a backwards somersault that brought her to her feet with room to launch into a roundhouse kick to his temple.

As if choreographed, 739 and the Viking-like Familiar exploded into violence. 739 lashed out with a rabbit punch to the kidneys that lifted the other man off his feet. He ignored the hit and countered with an elbow to the face followed by an uppercut to the jaw. 739 dropped to one knee and struck out at the target’s exposed ribcage. He twisted away and kneed 739 in the face, bloodying his nose. 739 dropped backwards, letting the next punch pass harmlessly over his head. He formed a bridge, kicked his legs upwards, and rammed his target in the chest with both feet. 739 jack-knifed to his feet.

494 let loose with a wickedly fast strike that connected with his target’s eye. If she lived it would blacken spectacularly. She ignored the pain and countered with a right hook. 494 slid sideways out of reach, her fist sailing past her ear. He retaliated with a side kick. She slipped past his guard and nailed him with a punch to the short ribs. She tried to press her advantage but 494 kneed her in the stomach and then knocked her backwards with a boot to the chest. She came back with a backhand that split his lip open. She smirked at the sight of his bloody lip. 

229 dropped into a leg sweep, knocking her opponent’s feet out from under him. She kicked him in the temple while he was down. He rolled to the side and quickly regained his footing. He went on the offensive, attacking with a flurry of punishing blows. 229 ducked and parried most of his attacks but he finally got past her guard and drilled her in the face. It opened the skin over her cheekbone. She winced. Stepping back to give herself room to manoeuvre, 229 launched into a series of whip kicks. Instead of dodging, he took the blows. Darting forward, he punched her in the side while she was still balanced on one leg. She went down and had to roll to avoid the boot that stomped the floor where her head had been a bare second before. Arching into a bridge, she clipped him in the chin with both feet as she flipped herself upright.

739 attacked with a series of jabs. His opponent parried each blow and threw a right hook that nailed 739 in the gut. 739 turned away from the blow then came back with a roundhouse punch that slammed him in the side of the head. The target spun with the impact and retaliated with a backhanded fist. 739 dodged sideways and threw a punch that went wide. The uber-Familiar smirked at the miss.

494 threw a fast punch that she dodged. She lunged forward with a straight jab to the throat. He parried and landed a roundhouse kick to her thigh. Using her arm, she pinned his lower leg against her side and chopped his extended knee with her elbow. 494 wrenched his leg back. She darted in before the X5’s’s balance was firm and punched him twice in the stomach. He grunted. Feinting to the left, 494 hit the uber-Familiar in the side of the head with a cocked elbow. She lashed out with an underhand punch to the side and followed through with an uppercut. 494 let it drop him to the floor into a back somersault that brought him back to his feet. He danced back several paces. Roaring in anger, she bull-rushed his position. Grabbing the shoulder straps of his Kevlar vest, she spun on her heel and threw him into the nearest wall. 494 braced his foot against the wall and pushed off into a jump kick to the chin that snapped her head back. She stumbled and nearly went down when her foot slipped on a piece of debris from the shattered library doors. In the brief moment it took her to recover her balance, 494 pulled his Glock. Smirking, he drilled her right between the eyes, a perfect round hole in the centre of her skull. She wavered and then topped to the ground, dead.

494 paused, breathing heavily. Adrenaline surged through his system. _This_ is what he was made for. He took stock of the battle raging around him.

739’s opponent boxed him in the ears. 739 stepped back, shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears. He blocked the incoming punch with his forearm and slammed his off-hand into the uber-Familiar’s exposed ribcage. He felt a rib crack beneath his fist and smirked in satisfaction. 739 feinted a chop to the throat and then drilled him in the ribs again.

229’s opponent seized her arm and started twisting it, trying to dislocate her shoulder. She went airborne into a backflip, unkinking the arm and nailing him with her boots as she flipped herself up and over. Ducking under the arc of the next blow as it came whistling toward her head, 229 popped up inside his guard and slammed him in the side of the head with a double-fisted swing. He landed a punch to the gut that doubled her over his fist. She retaliated by kneeing him in the groin. He staggered back a step, hands cupped protectively over his genitals in a purely male reaction. 

494 put his back to the wall to give his unit mates room to work. He kept his guard up, eyes flicking constantly between the melee in front of him and the library doors, alert for any cultists attempting to make a break for freedom.

Palming her throwing knife, 229 ducked under her opponent’s guard and slashed open his throat. Bright red arterial blood gushed from the wound, forcing 229 to jump backwards to avoid the spray. He swiped futilely at her before collapsing dead at her feet.

739 landed a side kick that knocked his opponent off balance. He slipped inside the Familiar’s guard, grabbed his skull in both hands, and snapped his neck with a quick twist. He tossed the body to the floor.

The three solo operatives shared a triumphant fist bump before their training reasserted itself. 494 sidled up to the edge of the ruined library doors, staying to one side of the doorjamb. 739 and 229 were pressed against the wall on the other side of the door, guns at the ready. Crouching low to present as small a target as possible, 494 carefully peered around the edge of the door frame and quickly scanned the interior of the library. Built-in bookshelves lined the walls. In the centre of the room a massive wooden conference table had been turned on its side, blocking his view of the back half of the room. It was pitted and scarred from the grenade blasts. Bits of burnt paper lay scattered on the floor, like autumn leaves.

494 signalled to the others that he was taking point. He eased into the room with 739 and 229 on his flanks. The X5 specialists moved forward at a cautious crouch, eyes and guns steadily sweeping the room in search of targets.

The head priestess lay slumped against the far wall. A piece of debris had caught her in the throat when they blew the doors, severing her carotid artery. She’d bled out and died while her guards fought to clear a path. The handmaiden tending her snarled and leapt at 494, hands curled into claws. His finger squeezed down on the trigger before she got two steps. He double-tapped her, once in the heart and once in the head and then shot the head priestess between the eyes, just in case.

It was over.

 

 


	14. Resolution

Otto Gottlieb paced the narrow confines of the NSA Mobile Command bus. There was very little room to move between the banks of computers and monitors that lined both sides of the bus, but pacing allowed him to keep a wary eye on the double agent, Seth Evans. Otto hated having to include the Familiar on such a sensitive mission but there was no way to leave him behind without raising suspicion, given that he was the one who uncovered the transgenics’ location. Judging by his scowl, Agent Evans clearly didn’t appreciate having his boss hovering over his shoulder. Irritating the man gave Otto a twisted sense of satisfaction, so he made certain to linger often at Evans’ station.

“Where are we on surveillance?” Otto demanded of no one in particular. “Do we have eyes on the interior yet?” 

“Negative, sir,” replied one of the analysts, a tall, gangly man with glasses, limp blonde hair, and a scraggly goatee. “The system is down.”

“What do you mean the system is down? We can’t go in blind!” Otto protested. He threw his hands in the air. “Get it back online.”

“I’m sorry, sir. The CCTV cameras have been physically disconnected from the system. There’s nothing I can do from out here.”

Alarm bells started to ring in Otto’s head. The transgenics would never leave the internal security system inoperable; they were too well trained for that. Official paperwork listed the site as an abandoned VA hospital, but Intel suggested it was an old Manticore facility that was decommissioned in 2009. Between the Pulse and the escape of the infamous Niners, it was deemed compromised and abandoned. 

Otto shivered. It was an eerie, depressing place. Time had not been kind to the compound. The windows were blinded by a heavily layer of dirt and grime. The surrounding forest had steadily crept back in to reclaim the site; a large evergreen had fallen down and toppled the perimeter fence in one spot and weeds grew rampant through cracks in the once pristine parade ground. 

“Have the satellites picked up any recent movement?” Otto asked.

“Nothing in the past 24 hours, sir,” answered the third analyst, a short Black female who perpetually wore her long twists pulled back in a neat ponytail. 

Otto’s sense of disquiet escalated. Something was definitely wrong. 

“It looks deserted, sir,” the third analyst noted quietly, voicing Otto’s unease. “Are we certain this is the correct location?”

Seth Evans bristled at the implied slight. He whirled around in his seat and pinned her with a dead-eyed stare. “Of course it’s the right place!” he barked, flecks of spittle flying. “How dare you question my findings! The freaks are just hiding in their lair in the dark like the dirty animals they are.” 

The sceptical analyst inched her chair back from Agent Evans’ vicinity, alarmed by the Familiars fanatical stare and barely restrained violence.

Evans scowled angrily, furious with the world and everyone in it. He’d been in a spectacularly foul mood the past few days. Not only had he been denied an invitation to the join the conclave to discuss strategy for releasing the sacred plague that would cull the human cattle, now the high priestess was ignoring his calls. None of the inner circle seemed to care that he was about to decimate the freaks. He ground his teeth in annoyance.

Otto eyed the troops waiting outside the bus for his signal to storm the compound. His hands were shaking from too much caffeine and too little sleep. This was the biggest operation of his career. Failure was not an option; too many lives - transgenic and human - were at stake. He’d been assured the black ops unit would get job done but he couldn’t help but feel he was sending them into a trap. No matter how good, no matter how well trained, they were only human. Bad enough to send good men up against genetically enhanced super soldiers, now he was sending them in blind too.

He still didn’t know if he was doing the right thing. The powers-that-be had been cagey about their plans for the transgenics once he brought them in. Was he condemning these kids to further experimentation in the name of science? 

It wasn’t his call. The powers-that-be wanted the compound taken, so take it they must. He could only pray he would still be able to look himself in the mirror after this night’s work. Otto thumbed open a channel to the soldiers waiting outside. “It’s a go,” he ordered. “Secure the compound. Minimal loss of life. Let’s bring these soldiers home alive.”

“Yes, sir.” The ranking field officer - Major Estrada - gave the waiting troops the signal to advance. With a hard grip on their weapons and senses on high alert, the soldiers slowly approached the perimeter fence. One of the soldiers in the vanguard used a pair of bolt cutters to clip an opening in the chain link fence. Major Estrada ordered his men to hold their positions. They stared into the night, eyes and ears straining to pick up any movement, praying the shadows were thick enough to hide them from their quarries’ genetically enhanced senses. The darkness was fading fast but there was no true light yet; false dawn. 

The base remained silent and still. Estrada allowed himself a small satisfied smile. It seemed luck was with them. With the element of surprise on the humans’ side, perhaps they _could_ take the base with minimal casualties. 

Moving as stealthily as they could, the black ops unit slipped through the gap and across the open ground to crouch in the shadows of the compound walls. Two soldiers wielding a portable battering ram smashed open a pair of doors. 

 

* * *

 

A warning flashed across Dix’s computer screen, interrupting his attempts to decipher the files seized from the cult’s compound. “Yes!” he crowed, pumping his fist in the air. In unison, every head in the room swivelled in his direction.

“The military took the bait,” he announced. “They just breeched the perimeter in Gillette.” 

Knowing the cult would plant another mole in the NSA after White’s death, and knowing that agent search tirelessly for their home, Finn and Reina purposely laid a false trail leading straight to the Gillette facility following the break-in at Senator McKinley’s home. Malachi’s scouts and all the supply teams out in the field joined them in the deception. Forgoing their usual sneak-and-creep, the transgenics deliberately let the satellites pick up their movements in and out of the compound, making it look active and lived in. After that it was just a waiting game to see when the government would act. 

There was no risk of exposure; Manticore had thoroughly sanitized the Gillette facility when operations were relocated to Seattle in 2009 and Freak Nation had no use for it either. They’d never need it as an emergency rally point the way they’d used the Seattle compound to regroup after fleeing Terminal City. They’d learned from their mistakes and established primary, secondary, and tertiary azimuths in case they ever needed to displace from Sanctuary.

The transgenics in the Command centre dropped their tasks and crowded around Dix’s monitor, jostling for space. Somehow Max and Alec ended up standing next to each other. Max accidentally bumped into Alec in the press of bodies. He stiffened. With an apologetic glance at her he tried to shuffle over and give her some space but there was no room to manoeuvre. Max gave him a crooked smile and shrugged one shoulder. Some of the tension eased out of his spine at her non-reaction to his proximity. They both let the crowd push them closer together, until they were touching at hips and shoulders. 

Fingers flying across the keyboard, Dix quickly hacked into the feed from the NSA’s Mobile Command bus. The gathered transgenics watched in silence as soldiers penetrated their former home.

Alec closed his eyes briefly and breathed in Max’s familiar scent. ‘ _Don’t get cozy_ ,’ he warned his traitorous heart. ‘ _This ceasefire won’t last_.’ It hurt to stand next to her but he was helpless to stop himself from soaking up the sense of comfort and peace just being near her brought him. It had been so long. Part of him resented her deeply for putting this gulf between them, even knowing that she couldn’t have acted any differently. Not and still be his Maxie. Alec craved her forgiveness and he hated himself for it. Hated himself for being so weak; hated her for breaking him. Not even _Manticore_ had managed that. He didn’t know if he could forgive her for that. She couldn’t even bring herself to admit he was right to monitor the cult. She still looked at him and saw X5-494, Manticore’s pet assassin. Never mind that being good at his Job just saved the world. Again.

Max would have sworn she felt Joshua deliberately nudge her closer to Alec. She allowed it. Part of her needed it; needed to be close to him in any way she could. There was an Alec-shaped hole in her life and nothing else seemed to fill it. Heat sank deep into her bones everywhere her body touched his. It was the first time she’d felt warm in days. ‘ _Mate_ ,’ her heart whispered. Max shivered. Tears welled up but she refused to let them fall. Not here; not now. She swallowed hard. Regret was a bitter taste on her tongue. 

In his peripheral vision Alec caught sight of Max’s eyes gone glassy with unshed tears. She opened her eyes wide to keep the tears from spilling over. Alec itched to hold and soothe his distressed mate. Afraid he might give into the impulse to take her hand, he clenched his fists and shoved them deep in the pockets of his jean jacket. Now matter how upset she might be, she wouldn’t welcome his touch and he refused to open himself up to more rejection and scorn from her. He’d already had more of it than he could swallow. It was a hard, heavy lump at the back of his throat, always there, choking him. He forced his attention back to the screen.

Max felt her lips curl into a smile of grim satisfaction over sacrificing the Gillette facility to the NSA. She was glad to see it go. Her heart felt lighter than it had in years. She imagined this was how snakes felt when they shed their old, dead skin. 

Watching the military storm through the compound in bid to reacquire their lost assets, Alec silently vowed to double the security protocols to ensure that Sanctuary’s location remained safe. He would not risk exposure of their home and the life they were building here. 

 

* * *

 

The compound might be listed on paper as a hospital but it certainly didn’t resemble one on the inside. It was built out of unrelieved dull grey cinder block. Instead of hospital wards and nurses’ stations there were barracks that locked from the outside and fortified security posts. The halls were locked and barred like in a prison. CCTV cameras were mounted at every junction, leaving no corner of the compound unwatched. Otto shivered at the thought of children growing up in side such a cold, grim place.

The black ops soldiers proceeded deeper and deeper into the compound, meeting no resistance. Room after room after room was cleared without encountering any sign of their quarry. 

Otto’s unease mounted steadily as he watched the soldiers’ unimpeded progress through the feed on their helmet cams. His brow and the bridge of his nose was furrowed in puzzlement. He exchanged increasingly unhappy looks with the analysts on the Mobile Command bus as the comms buzzed with a steady stream of “All clear” from the men inside. 

Otto compulsively scanned the camera feeds, desperately searching for a clue. One of the units had just finished clearing the pool room when something caught his attention. He quickly opened a channel. “Epsilon unit, this is Agent Gottlieb. I want a closer look at that dive tank.”

A solider stepped up to the edge of the tank. The female analyst obligingly toggled the view from the soldier’s helmet cam to zoom in on the mechanical contraption resting on the floor of the now empty pool.

“Are those restraints?” Otto asked in a strangled voice.

“Appears so, sir,” replied the analyst. She swallowed hard. Both agents imagined young transgenics strapped into those restraints at the bottom of that deep, deep tank.

“Sir…” the solider questioned, pointing his camera towards where his unit waited impatiently by the exit.

“Carry on,” Otto ordered wearily. He dropped into the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands. ‘ _Please let them be on our side_ ,’ he prayed. ‘ _We’ll never stand a chance if they want payback_.’

In another part of the compound, the soldiers discovered a shiny new laptop sitting on what used to be Colonel Lydecker’s desk. There was a cheerful yellow sticky note stuck to the screen with the words “Press Play” and a happy face written on it.

The soldiers exchanged baffled looks. The unit CO thumbed open his comm. “Sir, you need to come see this.”

 

* * *

 

Otto warily pressed play. 

Max smiled and waved at them from the screen. “Hi there,” she chirped brightly. “Manticore called me X5-452, but my name is Max Guevara. I’m the spokesperson for Freak Nation. Consider me your liaison.”

Otto divided his attention between listening to 452 - ‘ _Max,_ ’ he quickly corrected himself - and scanning the footage for clues. Max was seated at a generic metal desk, the kind that could be found in offices everywhere across North America. The wall behind her was draped with a nondescript black fabric, giving no clue as to the type of building she was in. There was no window that he could see, and nothing else in the frame to give away her location. Not that he really expected there to be. He was sure when the techs analyzed the video they would find the metadata had been scrubbed too. The transgenics were too smart and too well trained to give away any information they didn’t want others to know. 

“The building you are standing in was a Manticore facility. It was abandoned after the Pulse. Most of us were born there. And yeah, we were born. We didn’t pop out of a cocoon fully grown, or whatever the latest crazy theory is. Most of our DNA is human, you know.” Max rolled her eyes. “Anyway, that’s not the point of this message.” 

Max paused for a second, her face solemn. “Gentleman, there is a rogue element operating inside the US government. It’s been there for decades, perhaps even longer. This group is a religious cult but don’t dismiss them as harmless crackpots,” she warned. “They’re anything but. They’ve been selectively breeding for 1000s of years. They don’t feel pain and they don’t feel fear. And they think humans are cattle. By the time you see this video, we will have eliminated the majority of the threat. And before you brand _us_ a terrorist threat remember we were trained to protect this country. We were only doing our duty. Our mission has _always_ been to serve this country.” 

She paused. After much debate, the transgenic council decided to include Intel on the virus but not the cure. They needed the virus as evidence to prove how dangerous the cult was - and therefore justify their actions in attacking American citizens - but they didn’t want to give the government _more_ reasons to hunt them down. The CDC would want them for experimentation. They wouldn’t see them as people; only as opportunities for scientific advancement.

“Six months ago we stopped them from releasing a genetically engineered virus that would have wiped out nine-tenths of the population. You’re welcome,” she smiled cheekily. “It was a waterborne pathogen. They were going to dump it in the water supply of 12 major American cities. And no, Special Agent Ames White was _not_ at the Seattle water treatment plant that night to stop the attack. He was one of the whack jobs out to kill us all. This laptop contains all our Intel on this terrorist threat. Hope you’ve got a good linguist on staff, you’re going to need one.”

The video cut off, frozen on a still of Max’s face. 

Otto maintained a blank professional expression but inside he was beaming at the reveal. _Finally_ he would be able to go after those bastards openly. His mind started spinning with the logistics of planning his new task force. But first he had to find a way to get that laptop onto the bus without letting Agent Evans’ close enough to wipe it. 

* * *

 

 

The watching crowd of transgenics let up a thunderous cheer. The ruse had worked. They’d proven their worth by eliminating a common threat and they’d established contact with the government. Hopefully it was enough to buy their freedom.

Max slipped away from the impromptu party. She had an NSA agent to contact.

She ducked into her office. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she entered the number from memory. Her thumb hovered over the call button. She glanced over her shoulder to make certain the door was shut. The noise from the party should mask her conversation from the other transgenics’ sensitive hearing. 

That thought stopped her dead in her tracks. She stared horrified at the phone in her hands. 

What was she doing keeping keeping Intel to herself and handling the sitch through unofficial channels?? One of the reasons she was so pissed at Alec was for keeping secrets from her, and here she was doing the exact same thing. Being Freak Nation’s liaison to the Outside did not give her the right to act unilaterally. Whatever Gottlieb might want from them or be able to offer them, it wasn’t her decision alone. She didn’t necessarily know what was best for her people. Look at the mess she made over Alec monitoring the cult! If it had been her call, they never would have found out the cult was trying to recreate the doomsday virus. 

Max carefully set the phone aside. Calling Gottlieb would wait. Tonight was about celebrating their victory. And she had some serious crow to eat.

Her blind, arrogant belief that the cult wasn’t a threat was wrong. Her fear that the assassinations would expose them and bring an angry mob to their door was unfounded. Her assumption that Alec enjoyed killing was unfair.  

It was past time she told him so.

 

 


	15. Reconciliation

Max hesitated at the closed door to her office, needing a moment to gather her resolve. She had to humble herself and make her apology as public as her vitriolic attack, but eating humble pie didn’t come easily to her. And it didn’t help that she had no idea what to say. How could she explain her knee-jerk rejection of everything Manticore to soldiers who already saw her as lesser because she ran in ’09? In the end she decided to keep it simple. Show her throat to the alpha in public and hope he gave her a chance in private to explain further. 

Max threw open her office door and marched into Command. She paused on the edge of the celebration. A few transgenics glanced sidelong at her but most paid her no heed. ‘ _Nothing new there,_ ’ she thought cynically. She’d been on the outskirts since the night she fled Manticore. Too different to fit in with the humans; too human to fit in with the transgenics. Max forcibly shoved aside her self-pity. Now was not the time to dwell on her crappy little life.

Alec caught sight of Max hovering on the edge of the crowd. He watched as she scowled, impatient and restless at being ignored by the gathered crowd. One hand planted itself on her cocked hip, her foot tapping the floor. ‘ _Three… two… one…_ ’ he counted down silently. As if on cue, Max huffed and let out a piercing whistle.

Max blanched slightly as every eye suddenly landed on her. Most weren’t that friendly; only Joshua’s was encouraging. Even Syl’s face was carefully blank.

Alec winced. Max looked like she was about to face a firing squad. He stamped down on the urge to crack a joke to relieve the tension. Max wouldn’t appreciate the rescue and the others didn’t understand his need to still defend her, not after the way she’d treated him. 

Max squared her shoulders and locked her gaze on Alec. The room was so quiet she could hear her own breathing. She ignored everything but him; he was the only one that mattered. “I was wrong. You were right and I was wrong. You did what had to be done to protect the world. You made the tough decisions and you refused to back down… even when it cost you. You’re a true leader. I’m sorry for calling you out.” 

Apology given, Max turned on her heel and marched out of the room, spine straight and head held high. 

Alec stared after her blankly. He rubbed the back of his neck in confusion. “Huh. Did I just hear what I thought I heard?” he asked of no one in particular.

Mole sighed and smacked the bemused X5 upside the head. “You’re an idiot,” he announced. 

Alec cocked an eyebrow at him. “Come again?”

“Miss Bitch Queen of the Universe just admitted she was wrong in front of everyone. And you’re still standing here??” The lizardman rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“He’s an idiot,” Syl agreed cheerfully.

Alec took half a dozen steps after Max before turning back to look at Mole. “Why are you helping? I thought you didn’t approve.”

“I don’t,” Mole said evenly. “But I’m tired of watching you mope.”

“Max and Alec getting busy. That’s the plan!” Joshua said excitedly. He slapped Alec on the back hard enough to rock the X5 on his feet. Alec flashed him a crooked grin and shrugged uncertainly. 

“How about you try _talking_ first,” Syl suggested with a sardonic eye roll. She made shooing motions towards the door.

“Yes, ma’am.” Alec tossed Syl a fake salute and blurred after Max. He caught up just outside the main doors. She was walking fast, head down, arms wrapped around her midsection.

“Hey,” he said. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets. 

“Hey.” Max glanced away, feeling nervous.

Alec gestured towards the woods. “Can we… go for a walk?”

Max nodded gratefully at both the olive branch and the offer to keep moving; she did her best thinking on her feet. They fell into step, their strides evenly matched. Not a word was said for a very long time. They meandered along the path that led to the bluff overlooking the valley.

Max took a deep breath of the crisp, fresh air. She pulled her confining ponytail loose and let the wind blow through her hair. She stared straight ahead at the view. It was easier to say what she needed to say without looking at him. “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you. I was wrong.”

“Max…”

“No,” she interrupted. “Let me explain. Please.” Alec shrugged and nodded.

Max marshalled her thoughts, trying to find the perfect words to explain. It wasn’t about the killing; not really. That was just the easiest way to object. Truthfully she was hurt that Alec lied to her for months, and terrified that his actions might bring an angry mob to their door. Living through the post-Pulse riots had given her a healthy fear of mobs and the damage they could inflict. But she should have remembered that Alec was very good at his Job; Manticore would have decommissioned him long ago if he wasn’t. She should have trusted him. She should have had more faith.

“I thought that you betrayed me but you didn’t,” Max continued. Her voice was soft and low but she knew Alec would hear every word. “You were doing what I asked you to do. Taking care of our family. Keeping us safe. Okay, yeah you lied to me about it and that really hurt but… If you’d told me the truth from the beginning I still would have freaked out and then you would have had to go behind my back anyway and it still would have been this big mess.”

“I could have handled it better,” Alec admitted. “I should have brought you proof, made you understand the threat. But I didn’t want to have to explain myself… because I didn’t trust you to understand. It was easier to fall back on the chain of command. A commanding officer doesn’t have to justify decisions.” He crossed his arms, looking defensive yet vulnerable. “It was just easier to be 494 again.”

“Thinking like 494 isn’t where you went wrong. It’s just… you forgot to think like Alec too.”

“I _have_ to think like 494, Max. Military decisions are my responsibility,” he reminded her. He was their leader, thanks to both his military training and his rank within the pack structure that was transgenic society. It wasn’t a position he could easily abdicate, even if he wanted to. There were others with the training and experience to take command, but Alec trusted himself more than them. His thinking and problem solving were more flexible and dynamic than most of the more hardcore soldiers. Contrary to what Max clearly thought of him, he knew not all problems could - or should - be solved with a bullet.

“Yeah, but when your military decisions impact our PR, it becomes my problem too,” Max argued. “One person shouldn’t have all the power.”

“So you want us to be a democracy?” he asked sceptically. It would never work. Most transgenics still needed the security of a clear power structure. One year of freedom on the Outside hadn’t changed that. 

“No… More like a chain of command with an oversight committee.”

“I can live with that,” Alec conceeded. Max beamed. It made his heart clench painfully in his chest.  He still wanted to please her; he probably always would.

“You can’t keep things from me,” Max insisted.

“ _You_ need to give me the benefit of the doubt,” Alec countered.

“Yeah,” she agreed lowly. She nervously chewed her lips. She gathered her courage with both hands and asked the question she desperately needed to ask. “So what about us?”

“…I still love you, Max,” Alec said tiredly. He ran fingers through his hair, mussing it. “God knows I tried to stop, but I can’t.”

Max reflexively closed her eyes against the blow. He wanted out. Her face crumpled. Hot tears slid unchecked down her cheeks; twin trails of misery and sorrow. “Please, Alec…” she whimpered. “Please don’t stop. Please.”

“Why not?” His voice was neutral; not accusing, not provoking; just very, very tired.

Max shrugged helplessly. “You know I’m not good with words,” she stammered. She wrapped both arms around her body, hugging herself tightly.

“Then show me.” Alec’s voice cracked with emotion. He grabbed her upper arms and spun her to face him. “Let me in,” he pleaded. “Don’t push me away. Talk to me.”

Max licked her lips nervously. She felt vulnerable and exposed but resolute. “What…what do you want to know?”

The question was out before he could stop it. “Why was it so easy for you to believe the worst? Why couldn’t you just trust me?” Alec braced himself to hear another scathing recitation of his sins and shortcomings. He felt like one raw, bleeding nerve. 

“Because trusting you meant trusting Manticore, and I’ve hated Manticore for so long I don’t know how to stop.”

Alec’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “You think I don’t hate Manticore for what they did? To me? To Rachel?” he demanded incredulously.

“No, of course you do. But you don’t hate _yourself_ because of _them_.”

“Max…”

She held up a hand to forestall whatever he might say. “No, just let me talk… Up until we escaped, I spent every day of my life surrounded by my family. By people just like me. I didn’t have to hide what I was. Then we got out and suddenly I was all alone, and I’m a freak of nature, and I have this huge secret that I can never, _ever_ share…” She shrugged helplessly. “You spend long enough hiding what you really are, you tend to believe the lie. I forgot who I was. I _made_ myself forget… Until I met you. You’re not like me. You know who you are and you’re not afraid of it.” 

Alec nodded thoughtfully. Max couldn’t separate what they were genetically from what Manticore trained them to be. For as long as he’d known her, she’d insisted on acting Ordinary; suppressing both her military training and her transgenic heritage in favour of passing for human. Something he refused to do. He was proud of being ‘genetically enhanced’; proud of being better, faster, stronger, smarter. He refused to diminish himself just to fit in with humans. Self-respect was too hard fought a commodity to relinquish; even for her. 

“I wish I could be that again,” Max said softly. “I’ll try. I promise I’ll try.” 

In that moment, she meant it. She would try to reconcile the two sides of herself, 452 and Max, if it meant she could keep him.

Alec’s fingers tightened reflexively on her shoulders. He tramped down the urge to shake some sense into her. He may be fiercely proud of his transgenic abilities but his training in deep cover ops had taught him the value of blending in. Max had valuable experience to teach them about moving through human society undetected. But even more than the tactical advantage she and her siblings’ experience on the Outside represented, he didn’t want to change her. He fell in love with _Max_ , not 452. 

“Max, you don’t need to be anyone but yourself. We don’t need another soldier. We need _you_. Every day you show us that there’s more out there than what Manticore taught us. Don’t get me wrong, we can’t afford to forget our training… but we also need to live in this world. You show us how to do that.”

Max smiled tremulously, beyond relieved to be accepted because of - rather than in spite of - not being a soldier. The light in her eyes was so bright it was as if the sun came out from behind the clouds. She dazzled him. Alec didn’t see the point in resisting any longer; it was futile. He loved her. 

Bending his head, he caught her lips in a tender kiss. Max opened to him, offered up all that she was, just as he gave himself to her. She went up on tiptoe, her arms flung around his neck, her strong hands massaging his barcode and tangling in his hair. He slid his arms around her narrow waist. The warmth of her mouth on his turned the kiss into a scorching inferno. With a low moan, he hauled her even closer to him. He ground his burgeoning erection into her stomach and plundered her lips.

Max dropped back on her heels, wrenching himself away from his lips. Heart pounding, she stammered, “Wait.” Hurt darkened his eyes. She rushed to explain herself before he could shut down and pull away. “It’s not that I don’t want to, because I really really do, you have _no_ idea how much, so _please_ don’t take this the wrong way but… I think we should wait.” She glanced at his crotch. She could see the proof of his desire for her straining against his jeans. “I’m sorry,” she offered, feeling guilty for the unintentional tease. “It’s just… I want to do this right. And sex is—-”

“A distraction,” Alex finished. He blew out a deep breath as he got himself back under control. “So what now?”

“I guess we date?"

“Date, huh.” Alec quirked an eyebrow.  “You’ll have to show me how.”

Max snorted. “So not in my skill set. Guess we can learn together.”

They shared a smile. Alec opened his arms wide. Max tucked herself against his body, her arms around his waist and her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating; a steady thump that calmed her shattered nerves. He gently wrapped his arms around her. She pressed herself closer, her face nestled against his throat. They fit together like two puzzle pieces.

Alec closed his eyes and held her tighter. He nuzzled the top of her head, breathing her scent. He was home.

Max sighed happily. At last she was back in his arms. She’d ached for this.

She wasn’t a fool; she was well aware Alec hadn’t actually accepted her apology. She knew it was going to take time for him to let down his walls and trust her again. She was determined to prove that he could. 

They would get through this. They would find their way; together.

 

* * *

 

“Agent Gottlieb? They’re ready for you now.” The soft-spoken aide gestured towards the double doors leading to the Senate chamber. 

A joint task force - consisting of the various intelligence agencies, the military, and the Senate - had been convened to investigate the transgenic threat to national security in the wake of their actions against the cult. Otto had been summoned to deliver his report in person. He felt like he’d been called down to the principal’s office.

Blowing out a deep breath, Otto squared his shoulders and marched confidently into the chamber. The room was done in rich wood tones and creamy leather; elegant and expensive. The flag stood proudly in one corner. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the outer wall. The committee sat behind a raised semi-circular table, stern-faced and impassive. A shorter rectangular table crossed the open end of the semi-circle. Otto took his seat, hands clasped loosely on the desk in front of him. His table was much lower than the raised dais, leaving the impression that the committee was looming over him. Otto suppressed the urge to squirm uncomfortably. He poured himself a glass of ice water from the pitcher thoughtfully waiting for him. 

Leather-bound copies of his report lined the table in front of each member of the task force. The report was comprised of the transgenics’ Intel on the cult - pulled off the laptop they’d planted in the remains of the Gillette facility - as well as Otto’s own research. It contained the names and positions of every confirmed cult member - dead or alive - as well as data on the cult’s doomsday virus and the transgenics’ efforts to eradicate this terrorist threat.

There wasn’t a single government department or important financial institution in the country that hadn’t been infiltrated by the cult. The scope of the threat had the powers-that-be in hysterics. A witch hunt had begun. Too little, too late in Otto’s opinion; the transgenics had already gutted the cult. Any remaining members were too far down the power hierarchy and too scattered to be much of a threat. Though no doubt they’d be dead soon too. The transgenics were brutally efficient at their Job.  

The very fact that the transgenics could launch such a massive military operation undetected and then vanish had the government running scared.

“Interesting report,” the committee chairmen said, tapping his finger against the leather cover. He peered at Otto over the top of his glasses, scrutinizing the agent closely. Otto knew him to be a man of astute political acumen. “Congratulations Agent Gottlieb, you are now our resident expert on the transgenics. So what is your recommendation?” He spread his hands wide. “How do you suggest we proceed?”

Otto took a deep breath. “Open negotiations,” he stated as firmly as he dared.

There were muttered protests from the spooks and feds; the military representatives were quiet.

Otto forged ahead. While he had the floor, he would say his piece. “The transgenics eliminated the single largest and most dangerous terrorist organization in the history of time. A group we didn’t even know existed.” 

There were several glares from the spooks, who felt the sting of the unspoken accusation.

“Ask yourselves… why would they do that? Why would they risk their lives to save ours?” Otto forced eye contact with each and every member of the committee. “Because they are American soldiers. Because it is their duty to defend this country against its enemies.

“The transgenics launched an _unsanctioned_ military campaign inside American borders,” the chairman interjected.

“If this administration had known about the cult before Manticore burned, you’d have authorized a transgenic strike team to neutralize the threat. This op was no different than the hunt for Bin Laden and the Taliban after 9/11,” Otto countered. 

“So your recommendation is to ignore the threat they pose to national security.”

“No, don’t ignore it; don't punish them for it; harness it. Because if you don't, if you retaliate with force after they risked their lives to save ours… they’ll defect. They’ll have no choice. There are countries out there that will offer them sanctuary in exchange for their military expertise. You do _not_ want our boys facing transgenic soldiers on the battlefield,” Otto warned.

Two generals from Special Forces nodded thoughtfully; they’d fought alongside X5 units before and knew what they were capable of. 

“Force won’t work. We can’t contain them. We can’t even find them. I’ve been searching since they fled Seattle and I’m no closer now than I was then.” Otto shook his head ruefully. He had the latest in spook technology at his beck and call and nothing to show for it. Satellites needed a location to aim at. The NSA could snoop every phone call or email in the country but the transgenics were smart enough not to say anything incriminating that would flag the system. Facial recognition software was useless without a photo to match against and most personnel files were lost in the explosion that destroyed the Seattle facility. He had nothing.

“The stick approach won’t work,” Otto said firmly. “So let’s try the carrot instead. Offer them protection under the law as incentive to stay… and in exchange, they agree to serve their country the way they do best.”

Around the room, heads bobbed in agreement. The generals were practically salivating at the thought of having access to their assets again; there were many hot spots around the globe where a few transgenic units would make all the difference. 

“Will they take a deal?” the chairman asked. 

“Make them citizens with rights, offer them a paycheque like any other solider… and yes, they’ll take the deal. They’re soldiers. It’s what they are; it’s all they know. And they are still loyal to this country; their actions against the cult prove that. You can’t force them back in a cage. They won’t be slaves again. But make them free, treat them fairly… and they’ll be yours.”

 


	16. Epilogue/The Beginning...

Otto walked out of the latest round of seemingly endless meetings on the transgenic issue. His shoulders slumped. He rubbed his temples in a futile effort to dispel his raging headache. Why must politicians talk everything to death? 

He checked his phone; he’d missed a call while listening to the various committee members drone on and on. His heart rate started to accelerate. He recognized that number. He quickly accessed his voicemail. 

Max’s voice came over the phone. “We’ve read your proposal. It’s not bad… for a first draft. I’m sure you can do better.” Otto could hear the cheerful smirk in her voice. “FYI,” she continued, “You’re now in a bidding war. We’ve offered our services to the UN. They’ve promised us sanctuary in exchange for hunting down a few war criminals. Which for us is no biggie. So if your bosses want to keep their assets local, they’d better sweeten the deal.”

Otto grinned. Offering their services to The Hague was a smart move. Tracking down war criminals and other criminal scum would buy the transgenics some much needed positive publicity. And if worse came to worst back home in America, Switzerland had no extradition policy with the States. The military would have to invade to get their assets back and that would not go over well with NATO or the EU.  

With any luck, this was just the info that would motivate the Senate to stop dragging their collective feet and sign off on the bill to repatriate the transgenics. Otto’s pace picked up; he felt a burst of energy that burned away his headache. He needed to get back to the office and start phoning key members of the joint task force. They had negotiations to prepare for.

 

 


End file.
